


Stumbling into Life

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-24
Updated: 2011-03-24
Packaged: 2019-05-30 09:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 93,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: This is a companion piece to Running into the Past. While they can each stand alone, they're better read together and starting with Running into the Past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

She yawned and stretched before taking the clip out of her hair and putting it on the shelf in her locker. Next came her bowtie and then her vest. She put the bowtie next to the clip and tossed the vest towards her duffle bag so she could take it home and wash it for tomorrow’s shift. The black high heels came off after that, for which her feet thanked her. She pulled her gym shoes out from the bottom of the locker, replacing them with the heels, then leaned over and pulled the socks from the gym shoes, putting them on over her hose and the shoes on over the socks. Last, she grabbed her neatly folded tips from the shelf in the locker and her purse and winter coat from the hook before shutting the metal door and clicking her combination padlock closed. She shoved the money into her purse, grabbed the duffle bag and pulled her coat on as she walked out of the locker room, through the kitchen into the bar, nodded a goodnight to a few co-workers drinking beer in the quiet, closed restaurant, and finally walked out the side door into the parking lot.

Snow was coming down in large slowly falling flakes and her 1984 Ford Fairmont sat under a light towards the back of the lot where all the employees parked. She dug for her keys as she approached it, fumbling with them due to stiff, cold hands. Ice thickly blanketed the ground and she could see her breath. She slipped a bit on the ice but caught herself, thankful she’d taken off the heels, and by the time she reached the car, her teeth were nearly chattering.

She unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting it before putting the key into the ignition. The car started to turn over, coughing and choking before stalling, and she cursed under her breath. She tried it a second and third time before it finally started, and then gave it gas to keep it from dying. Once it was stable, she reached into the backseat for her ice scraper and got back out, scraping ice and snow from the windows while the car warmed up. When she got back inside, she turned on the heat and backed out, pumping her brakes and taking it slowly the entire way home.

By the time she parked in the apartment complex, it was after two. As she made her way up to the third story apartment, she mentally listed off the things she needed to do before going to bed. Taking out her contacts topped the list; between the eighteen hours she’d worn them, the smoke from the restaurant bar, and her overall exhaustion, her eyes were killing her.

She opened the door and kicked off her gym shoes before dropping the duffle bag on the floor in the foyer. Michael was sitting on the couch and looked up from a book before looking back down and highlighting something. “Hey babe,” he said casually.

She sighed deeply and pulled her coat off, hanging it on the coat rack, before heading past the living room and towards the bathroom. “I hate contacts.”

She heard him chuckle and say something, but she’d already turned on the shower, letting the water heat up while she pulled the contacts from her eyes. She unbuttoned her white button down shirt and pulled the short black skirt off before sitting on the toilet and taking off her gym socks and hose. “Ooh, sexy.”

She shook her head and laughed faintly. “I might look sexy, but I smell like smoke and whisky.”

She stood up and shrugged out of the shirt, then started to unhook her bra. He stepped up behind her and she felt his hands sliding from her shoulders down to the clasp. “But you’re about to shower,” he said quietly into her ear.

“So I can crawl into bed and pass out.”

He groaned as she pulled out of his grasp and slipped out of her underwear before stepping into the shower, but she ignored him and let the hot water cascade over her face, chest and back. “I could join you in there; kill two birds with one stone,” he said suggestively.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, speaking to him over the sound of the water. “Michael, I worked fifteen hours today. It’s not going to happen.”

“It never happens anymore,” he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

“Please don’t start with me about this.”

“God forbid.” The room went quiet and she concentrated on her shower, putting a glop of Suave shampoo into her palm and working through her smoke-filled hair, her eyes closed and feeling returning to her feet. “Are you hungry?”

Her eyes flew open, surprised he was still in the room. “What?”

“Are you hungry?”

She was quiet for a second, trying to decide if her exhaustion outweighed her empty stomach. “What’d you make?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking. I ordered pizza.” 

She pulled the curtain back, glaring at him while his eyes followed soap bubbles sliding down her body. “Michael,” she said curtly.

He rolled his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s pizza, Donna, not a new car.”

“You ordered pizza twice last week and went out for wings last night.”

“You’re keeping track of my food intake?”

“I’m keeping track of the money.”

“Your money, you mean.”

She let the curtain close again and rinsed her hair. “Go to hell.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically. “The fight du jour. Yesterday’s was because I forgot to meet for dinner at your parents and had wings with the guys. The day before that was what… my dirty clothes on the floor, right? This weekend I didn’t take you to the reception, so I’m obviously embarrassed by you, and tonight I’m spending too much money. The money you work for, right?”

She turned the water off, ripped back the curtain and grabbed a towel off the rack. Without speaking to him, she stepped out of the tub and went around him into the bedroom. 

“Isn’t that right, Donna?”

She continued to ignore him while she dried her body with her back to him. When she was dry, she walked to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of underwear, pulling them on before rooting around for some pajamas.

“Go ahead, just say it,” he said a bit louder.

“Fine,” she screamed, turning around to face him as she pulled a tank top over her head. “I work two jobs, eighty-five hours a week and drive a fifteen year-old car that doesn’t like to start in the winter. I eat Romin fucking Noodles for lunch everyday and use 98 cent shampoo. The last time I bought clothes was six months ago when they changed the dress code at the restaurant. Where in the hell do you get off spending our money like every single penny doesn’t come at a cost?”

“That cost being your sex drive?” he yelled back at her.

“Yeah, Michael, that must be it,” she said sarcastically. “There couldn’t be any other reason, could there?” He stared at her and after a second she shook her head and pushed past him into the bathroom to pick up her dirty clothes. He followed her and watched as she emptied her duffle bag into the washing machine and started a load of laundry.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he finally spit out.

She took a deep breath. “It means that all the arguing doesn’t do much for my… what’d you call it? Sex drive?”

“Well maybe if you’d have sex, you’d find a way to pull out the stick that somehow got wedged up your ass. Then there wouldn’t be so much arguing,” he said before turning away from her and walking back into the living room.

She waited several seconds before going into the living room. Staring at him, she watched as he picked up a book and started reading again. The conversation clearly over, she brushed her teeth and went to bed. 

She tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep but too exhausted to do anything buy lay there. They’d been at each other’s throat for the last six weeks, arguing over the silliest stupidest things imaginable. Yawning again, she looked at the clock and groaned. She had to be up in four hours. Finally, she rolled to her side and closed her eyes.

About a half hour later she felt the bed move behind her. Fighting back the urge to tell him to sleep on the couch, she feigned being asleep herself. But when he put his arm around her, she pulled away and moved closer to the edge of the bed, giving up the pretense. “Why are we acting like this?” he whispered to her, his breath on her neck.

She considered ignoring him, tried to even, but heard the words spill from her mouth all the same. “Because we’re unhappy,” she said quietly.

She felt him roll and pictured him on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Donna…”

She shook her head. “I’m tired. I worked all day. Can we please talk about this in the morning?”

He rolled again, far enough away that she could no longer feel the heat from his body. “Yeah, alright.”

********** 

A week later she followed the same routine, pulling into her parent’s driveway at just before two o’clock. She quietly unlocked the door, trying not to wake anybody, and slipped inside, hanging her coat up in the closet by the door and kicking off he shoes. “Hungry?”

She looked up and saw her mom standing in the entryway between the front hall and the kitchen, wearing slippers and a flannel robe. “What are you doing up?” she whispered.

Her mom shrugged and smiled and Donna couldn’t help smiling back at the older version of herself. “I thought you might be hungry when you got home. I made roast for dinner.”

Donna's eyes widened. There was little in the world better than her mother’s roast. “With potatoes and onions?”

Her mom chuckled at her. “Of course. Come on, I’ll heat some up for you.”

She dropped her duffle bag by the staircase and followed her mom obediently into the kitchen, sitting at the table and letting the older woman take care of her. It was nice, she thought, to be the kid again. She watched her padding her way around the kitchen, pulling a plate down from the cabinet and some Tupperware out of the refrigerator. “You could’ve just left me a note, you know.”

The older woman shrugged, going about the task of warming up dinner. While it heated in the microwave, she poured two cups of coffee and sat them down on the table next to a container of cream. “We haven’t been able to spend much time together since you moved back in. You’re never here.”

The microwave dinged and she put the plate in front of Donna before sitting across from her. It smelled incredible and Donna took a few bites before looking up. “This might be your best roast ever.”

Her mom smiled. “Michael called.”

“I’m sure he did,” she responded under her breath. “The rent’s due tomorrow.” 

“Ahh…” 

Her mom didn’t elaborate, didn’t judge or start telling Donna what to do, and for the first time in a long time, Donna wished she would. She needed the advice. She sighed and asked quietly, “Why have I been so miserable lately?”

Her mom looked up from her coffee cup and paused a few seconds. “Because you’re twenty-five and you’ve been living like a forty year old. Twenty-five year olds should be traveling, working that first great job after college, learning something new everyday, meeting good looking men in bars and giving out fake phone numbers. Life should be fun and exciting and full of unknowns. You aren’t supposed to have a life plan yet and you aren’t supposed to be working two dead-end jobs that you hate to support the man who claims to love you but lets you do that for him.”

Donna’s eyes opened in surprise. “Ok,” she stammered, letting the room fall silent as she stared at her mother. 

It was a full minute before her mom spoke again. “Well,” she said quietly with the hint of a grin on her face. “You asked.” 

Donna couldn’t help but smirk back. “You’ve been waiting for me to, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

They both laughed then and Donna thought it’d been too long since she’d done that. Since she’d had fun doing anything; since she’d just hung out. And even though it was with her fifty-two year-old mother, it was nice. 

She got up and refilled their coffee cups as her mom put the rest of the roast back in the fridge and wiped down the counter. “Might I make a suggestion?” her mom asked as she put cream in her coffee.

Donna leaned back in her chair and nodded. 

“Get away.”

“What?”

Her mom shrugged. “Get away. Go visit your Aunt Barbara and Uncle Ted for a few weeks. Or your grandparents. They never get to spoil you anymore. Go stay with them for a while.”

“Mom,” she scoffed.

“What?”

She looked at her. “I… can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I…”

“Yes, that sounds very important.”

“I have to work.”

“You’ve got your whole life to work.”

She frowned. “I need to go back to school.”

Her mom nodded. “Yes you do. But you can’t start back until the summer session now anyway. You might as well get away for a while before then.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“Who cares? Max out your credit cards, use up the little money you’ve saved. Borrow some from me.”

“Mom!”

“Just don’t tell your father I said that about the credit cards. You know how he is.”

Donna laughed and shook her head. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No. But I think it’d do you good to put some distance between yourself and Michael, to go figure out who you are and what you want in life, and if you have some credit card bills later on or if I have to give you a little money to help you do that, then it’s money well spent, isn’t it?”

Donna raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

Her mom stood up and put her coffee cup in the sink before kissing the top of Donna’s head and walking back towards the stairs. “Think about it, Baby. You’ve got your whole life to be an adult. Go live first.”

********** 

She was in the middle of her Saturday shift at the restaurant nine days after what her father had titled ‘the break-up of the century,’ pretending not to notice the pig checking out her legs while she listed off the evening’s features to he and his wife. ‘A petite filet with a white wine and clam sauce, served with fresh steamed asparagus and a salad,’ and it was somewhere around the clam sauce that she realized she was only supporting herself now. She didn’t need two jobs.

She was beaming and couldn’t stop, and when her manager asked if she could stay late to cover for a sick waitress, she said no. He looked at her in shock and she assumed it was because she’d never turned down the extra money before, but she just smiled and pulled her bowtie and vest off, handing them to him and quitting on the spot.

She got home a few minutes before seven and walked inside, slamming the door and shouting, “I’m home!” 

Her dad hurried down the stairs while pulling on his jacket and barely glanced at her before picking up his car keys off the small table by the door and yelling, “I’m gone. Don’t wait up.” Then he kissed her cheek and said, “Wish me luck Baby, your mother’s going to kill me if I lose again tonight.”

She gave him an amused look and wrapped his scarf around his neck. “I don’t think poker’s your game, Dad.”

He seemed to ponder her words for a second before replying. “I can’t golf Honey, I have to make business contacts somewhere,” he said with a grin as he opened the door and walked outside, closing it behind him.

She laughed and shook her head before kicking off her shoes and walking into the kitchen looking for her mom. She wasn’t there and she turned to head into the living room. Her mom was on the couch watching television, the remote next to her and note cards in her lap. “What’s up?”

She looked up at her. “Hey, I thought you’d try to pick up the dinner shift tonight.”

Donna smiled. “Me too. Instead, I quit.”

Her mom stared at her a second before matching her smile. “Alright! Now we’re talking. Sit down and watch the debate with me.”

She glanced at the television. “The primary debate? Republicans or Democrats?”

“Democrats. I’ve got the note cards labeled and ready. Let’s pick ourselves a president.”

Donna unzipped her coat. “Let me… is there anything to eat?”

“There’s chili on the stove and sour cream in the fridge.”

“Perfect,” she said, walking back towards the hall.

“Hurry!” her mom called out. “Starts in four minutes.”

Donna ran up the steps to her bedroom to change into her pajamas, excited. Her mom was the only person in the family who shared her love for politics. She smiled as she pulled her skirt and shirt off, thinking of town hall meetings and congressional campaigns the two of them had followed throughout the years. She’d gotten out of it a little since being with Michael, and she regretted that, but between the two jobs, taking care of the apartment and helping him study, there hadn’t been time. She pulled on her warmest flannel pajamas and grinned; leaving Michael had more perks than she thought.

She hurried downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling a deep bowl from a cabinet and filling it nearly to the top with chili before adding shredded cheese and sour cream to it. She took it back into the living room and put it on a table tray before going back for a glass of water. She heard the familiar music and heard her mother shouting for her, and ran back in just as the moderator came on. Sitting down next to her mom, she picked up the note cards as the moderator discussed the rules of the debate.

“Ok, what do we know?” she asked her mom.

“The yellow cards are for John Hoynes. He’s the one to beat. He’s a moderate senator from Texas, and I think we’re about to see why. You can’t be from Texas and not like guns and gasoline. It’s some kind of rule there.”

Donna nodded and picked up the hot pink cards. “What about… Wiley?”

“He’s from Arkansas. His accent drives me crazy. He’s a congressman, has been for about a hundred years, which is about how old he is.”

Donna nodded again, putting those cards down and picking up the purple. “And Bartlet?”

“He’s a governor from New Hampshire and was a congressman before that. He’s a Nobel Prize winner and is very liberal and quite possibly a snob.”

“Ok, let’s pick ourselves a president.”

An hour later her mom flipped off the television while Donna gathered the note cards they’d filled in with the candidates’ answers. They took the cards and Donna’s empty bowl into the kitchen and her mom started the coffee maker before sitting down and helping Donna separate the cards. 

“So, you quit your job at the restaurant today,” she said, separating the yellow cards into a good answer pile, a bad answer pile, and a stock answer pile.

“Mmm,” Donna said absently, studying the purple cards carefully.

“Are you going to keep your job at McCalister and Combs?”

Donna flipped another card, nodding as she read Governor Bartlet’s answer on farm subsidies. “Guess so,” she mumbled.

Her mom watched her while putting almost every pink note card in the stock answer pile. “Have you thought anymore about getting away?”

That caught Donna’s attention and she looked up. “I…” She trailed off and looked back down at the note cards in her hand.

“You know…” her mom said as she watched her. “You don’t have to go to your grandparent’s. You could go… someplace else.”

“Mmm…” 

She watched as Donna flipped another card and another. “Are you going to separate those cards?” Donna looked up at her and then down at the piles on the table. “Good, bad, stock,” her mom said, pointing to the different piles on the table.

Donna paused for several seconds before carefully placing the entire stack of cards onto the ‘good answer’ pile. 

They both sat quietly looking at the different colored note cards. “Guess we’ve picked a president,” her mother said softly.

Donna continued staring at the cards for a minute before looking up at her mom again. “You know, if I’m going back into political science when I start school again, it wouldn’t kill me to spend the next few months getting some hands on experience.”

Her mom nodded and smirked. “I was just thinking the same thing.”


	2. Stumbling into Life

She parked her car, filled with two suitcases, a garment bag, a half-eaten bag of Doritos and an empty bottle of Mountain Dew along Webster Street a few minutes before noon on Tuesday. She’d hoped to drive straight through the nineteen hours to Manchester so she could check into a cheap hotel and shower before finding her way to the campaign headquarters early that morning, but it was February and snow had slowed her trip significantly. She’d finally given up and found a Motel 6 in a small town east of Syracuse, New York a little after eleven and had called it a night, leaving at five the next morning for the last five hours of the journey.

She pulled the rearview mirror down and checked her make-up again before opening the door to get out. The wind blew in harshly, hitting her face and causing tears to spring to her eyes, and she shut the door and rooted around the backseat for her winter coat. Pulling it on the best she could while seated, she opened the door again and got out. 

Adjusting and zipping the coat, she looked both ways before crossing the street to the building front with several ‘Bartlet for America’ signs in the windows. There was a white banner draped high across the entryway, and she assumed it said the same thing, but couldn’t be sure as it flapped wildly in the biting winter breeze. When she opened the door to walk inside, a chime rang that reminded her of an old country store. 

She stood there a moment waiting for someone to offer to help her, but no one did, so she wandered over to a table along the wall that had some brochures and buttons haphazardly thrown on it and a cardboard box on one end. Glancing inside the box, she saw bumper stickers and more buttons, as well as some t-shirts and yard signs. She looked around once more at people wandering about oblivious to her presence, then shrugged and reached inside for a bumper sticker.

“Before you do that, can you do me a favor?” 

Ripping her hand out of the box and holding it behind her back like a child with a cookie, she spun around to face a woman with red hair. “I…” she stammered, trailing off as the words ‘was just about to steal a bumper sticker’ echoed in her mind.

The woman smiled politely but looked rushed, as if the last thing she had time to do was worry about a bumper sticker. “Yes, that’s great; the table does need set up. But if you could distribute these first, before they’re done with their meeting, it’d be a huge help,” she said as she handed Donna a stack of papers.

Donna looked down at the papers and back up at the woman. “What…”

“There are names on everything. Just put it on their desks,” she said as she backed away while marking something down on a clipboard. She turned around and started walking off. “Oh, and there should be a table cloth in the storage room for that table,” she said without looking back.

Donna stared after the woman’s retreating form and then dumbly down at the stack of papers and mail in her hands. She bit her lip and looked around once again, wondering if anyone could tell her where to find Toby Ziegler’s desk, then, figuring it couldn’t be too hard, walked off towards a group of desks near the center of the room.

She smiled as she walked, nodding hello to people she passed, doing her best to look as if she belonged. She quickly formed a plan; deliver what was in her hand, find a table cloth and arrange the table in the front, then find the redheaded woman and get more work to do while casually mentioning that she was a new volunteer. Certainly they wouldn’t turn her away once she’d already started.

She reached a group of desks, disappointed not to find any names on them, then turned abruptly when she heard a familiar voice. Her eyes popped open and a rush of excitement hit her at the site of Governor Bartlet, sitting on the edge of a desk fifteen feet from her talking to several people. She itched to go closer, to listen in on the conversation, but stayed put, barely able to make out the sound of voices. 

She watched, mesmerized, for a minute, already looking forward to calling her mom that night and telling her she saw the governor. That she stood fifteen feet from him. For a fleeting second she thought that maybe if she made herself look busy enough, she could wait there until the meeting was finished, and then just kind of bump into him and introduce herself. Then she looked down at the things in her hand and remembered the plan.

She continued on, wandering around until she came to an area near the back that seemed to be set apart by filing cabinets, a copier, and a brown cardboard sign hanging from the ceiling by two strings that read ‘COMMUNICATIONS.’ There were three desks in the area, two facing each other and the other in a corner next to a television and a shorter filing cabinet with an inbox on top of it that read ‘PRESS’. Someone was making copies at the copier, but the area was otherwise empty, and she walked towards it hoping to find Toby Ziegler’s desk. 

The first desk she came to had a white piece of paper taped to the side that read ‘Sam Seaborn,’ but the desk across from it was what she was looking for. A similar piece of paper read ‘Toby Ziegler,’ although someone had crossed it out with red ink and written ‘Oscar the Grouch’ underneath it. She smiled as much from the joke as from the fact that she’d found where she was going. Leafing through the stack of things in her hand, she paused at something for Sam Seaborn before continuing to pull out several things for Toby and placing them in the center of the neatly arranged desk. Then she pulled out a few things for Sam Seaborn and placed them on his desk, pausing to look at a picture of a man and woman in front of a Christmas tree. 

Her pile somewhat smaller, she moved to the third desk. Taped to the wall it faced was another white piece of paper that read ‘C.J. Cregg.’ She went through her pile of things once again and by the time she’d placed CJ’s things into the inbox next to the desk, she had only one more desk to find: Josh Lyman.

She left the communications area and continued wandering around until she came to a small over-crowded office. Taped to the entrance was a sign like the others that read ‘Josh Lyman.’ She raised her eyebrows, figuring him to be pretty important if he warranted an office, and walked inside and looked around. It was cluttered with boxes and there was an odor that while not overpowering, was definitely present, and she cringed, thinking maybe he wasn’t important at all; maybe people just didn’t want to work around his mess. Walking towards his desk, she tripped and looked down at a file folder with its contents spilling out. She picked it up, looked at the ‘SOCIAL SECURITY’ written in all caps across the front of it, and placed it along with the rest of her pile on the desk, then immediately picked it up, wondering if he’d even notice it in the chaos. Looking around for another option, she finally put everything on his chair and turned back to straighten the desk up a bit. She started by making piles; one for folders, one for messages, one for what was probably notes but looked more like doodling, and in the center, everything she’d brought in. She noticed his calendar opened to February 7th, several things crossed out or scribbled over and a post-it note stuck to the page that said, “Must get Peters.” The shrill sound of the phone ringing scared her in the quiet room and she dropped the calendar on top of the pile. She walked towards the doorway, looking around for someone to answer it, and when she saw that no one was near, she bit her lip and looked at the phone as it rang a third and then fourth time. She hesitated until the fifth ring before answering it, “Bartlet for America; Josh Lyman’s office.” 

As a man asked her a question, she reached over the desk looking for something on which to write a message. She found a clean post-it note and grabbed his calendar for something hard to write on, then sat on the corner of the desk and focused on the call.

“Josh Lyman? Uh, no, he's not available right now.” 

“He wants to meet with me about Jeffrey Peters. I’m going to be in town today and tomorrow. Do you know if he’s available this afternoon?”

“This afternoon?” ‘Must get Peters.’ She looked down at the calendar in her hands, trying to make sense of it. It was a wonder this guy got anything done. “Uh, he's got a media session, and then a four o'clock with finance.” At least, that’s what she was guessing by the scrawling in the calendar.

“Well, that’s not going to work. Tomorrow it is then.”

“If you leave your name I can give Josh the message when he gets back,” she said as she mentally reminded herself that she didn’t know who this Josh guy was.

“Mark Richards. He can get me at the Embassy Suites downtown.”

She wrote it down while nodding slightly. “Thank you very much.” She hung up the phone and finished writing down the message while debating whether or not she should just find a phone book and get the number to the Embassy Suites so it’d be ready for this Josh guy when he wanted it. He seemed to need all the help he could get. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, and looking up, her eyes widened as a man wearing a horrible plaid shirt stood in the doorway staring at her.

“Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi.”

“Who are you?”

She paused, wondering if she was about to be in trouble. “I'm Donna Moss, who are you?”

He stared at her dumbfounded. “I'm Josh Lyman.”

“Ahh...”

“Yes.”

And then she had a brilliant idea. “I'm your new assistant.”

********** 

“You need this,” he said, walking into his office with a manila envelope a few minutes after he’d agreed to hire her and then had left without a word of what she should do. She took it from him and he walked around her and sat down at his desk. 

“Ok,” she said, opening it and looking inside. “What is it?”

He looked at his desk for a second, confused. “There’s a fundraiser in… what happened to my desk?”

Her head snapped up. “I was just... I thought it might be easier to find things on it this way.”

He continued staring at it for a few seconds before picking up a stack of messages and handing them to her without looking up. “We need to return these calls once we’re on the bus. And here,” he said, holding the stack of things she’d put there earlier. “We’ll go through this too.”

She nodded and put the messages in her pocket before peeling a post-it note off his calendar. “Mark Richards called about Jeffrey Peters.”

He looked up at her. “He did? When?”

“Just a few minutes ago, before you…” she gestured to the campaign badge around her neck. “He’s only in town today and tomorrow. Also, what should I do about your media session and meeting with finance?”

He thought for a minute before answering. “We’ll do the media session on the bus with CJ. Cancel finance.” She nodded and grabbed a pad of paper off his desk, writing it down even as she wondered who finance was.

“What about Mark Richards? Your post-it note says you have to get Peters,” she said, holding it up for him to see.

“I do, but…” he raked his hand over his face and through his hair and she had to stop herself from laughing at the way it made his hair stick up. “We’re leaving in an hour and a half.” He looked up at her. “Are you packed?”

“Umm… I’m not actually unpacked yet, so yeah. I can call him; see if he can meet you now.”

“I can’t, I’ve got to get this stuff…” he gestured to the shelves of boxes and then looked back at her with a grin. “Yes I can. And do you know why I can?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Because I’m going to get those boxes ready for the trip?”

He nodded. “Because you’re going to get those boxes ready for the trip.” He stood up and started looking around for something. “Call him, tell him I’m on my way to… where is he?”

“He’s staying at the Embassy Suites downtown,” she said, handing him his keys from the filing cabinet by the door. 

He nodded. “I’m on my way there. Call him and tell him. And stay by the phone. I’m calling you in five minutes.”

With that, he was gone. She stood staring at the empty doorway wondering what had just happened for several seconds. He’d only been in the room for about a minute and a half, but suddenly she had a ton to do and no time in which to do it, which she figured was ok since she didn’t know how to do most of what she was supposed to do anyway. A feeling of dread came over her and she wondered if perhaps she should’ve stuck with the table arranging and talking to the redhead plan.

And then she smiled. She wasn’t sure why, but she was standing in an empty office smiling. She spun around once, facing the desk again, and the smile got bigger. She shook her head and then, hoping there was a phone book in the office somewhere, started going through the desk drawers. Most of them were empty and she chuckled, figuring that’s why the top was so full. She found a dusty phone book that was obviously unused in the bottom drawer and looked up the Embassy Suites. A minute later, she hung up the phone and mumbled to herself. “One down.”

She put the phonebook away and grabbed the message she’d taken for the press department. Remembering the inbox in the Communications corner of the building, she walked quickly there. The infamous Toby Ziegler was sitting at his desk and she glanced down at the sign with his name on it, thinking he did look a little like Oscar the Grouch. He didn’t look up at her, and she put the message in the press inbox and headed back towards Josh’s office.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the metal shelves in the back of the office and looked in a box. It was full of files that had obviously been shoved into it in no order. Some were right side up and others were on their sides, and most of them had wrinkled papers and scribbled on post-it notes sticking out of them. Some had things written in ink on them, and they all had a topic written in capital letters with a sharpie on them. 

The second box looked the same, as did the third. The fourth box was like the other three, except that instead of a topic written across the front, each folder had a name and state. She pulled a moderately full folder labeled ‘GARY HAMILTON, INDIANA’ out of the box just as the phone rang, and carried it with her to the desk as she answered. “Bartlet for America, Josh…” She stopped talking and her eyes widened in mortification.

After a second of silence, she heard a chuckle. “Lyman.”

“Yes! Josh Lyman’s office.”

“Donna, this is Josh.”

She cringed and wondered if she was about to be fired. “Oh… hi.” 

“You forgot my name?” 

“Just your last name,” she said weakly. “I remembered the Josh part.”

“So, you only forgot half my name,” he said, chuckling at her. 

She winced and closed her eyes tightly in humiliation. “Well, in my defense, I’ve only known you for twenty minutes.” 

“Yet I know that your name’s Donna Moss.”

“But you asked me my name like five times,” she said emphatically.

“So I wouldn’t forget it later.”

“Right.”

“Did you talk to Mark?”

“He’s waiting for you in the hotel restaurant.”

“Have you started on the boxes?”

Her eyes widened. “Just. Do they all need to come with us?”

“All of the issues folders need to come, including the ones on my desk. One box is full of names; bring any folders for North or South Carolina, and… I don’t know, other states around there.”

“Tennessee and Georgia?”

“Sure, you know that, but do you know my name?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “It’s Jared or something like that, right?”

“Funny. Did you cancel my meeting with finance?”

“Not yet. Who exactly is finance?”

“Find Margaret, tall redhead. She’ll get you a list of campaign staff. Tell her I lost my campaign badge and need a new one, and make sure she knows you’re going on the bus. Oh, and tell her you’re the contact for the fundraiser on Friday.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I gave you the envelope.”

She looked over at the chair where the envelope sat. “Got it.” 

“Go over it. We’ll talk about it on the bus.”

“Ok.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. I’ll be the tall good looking guy. Try to recognize me when I come in.”

“I’ll do my best.” She hung up and started pulling files out of the box on his desk, once again and inexplicable smile on her face.


	3. Stumbling into Life

The second the bus pulled up in front of Hershey High School, they piled out. The snow had slowed them down again and now there was only an hour before the rally was scheduled to start and they weren’t set-up. She stepped out of the bus, the cold air attacking her immediately, and zipped up her coat before heading into the high school gymnasium.

She walked a few feet behind Josh and CJ, knowing enough about him after two weeks to know that she shouldn’t stray far when there was even the remote possibility that he’d need her. And she liked that; that he was brilliant and could do anything, but that he trusted her to help him; that he let her be a part of this, and not because he needed her to be, but because he allowed himself to need her. It was different from the way Michael needed her, and although she knew it wasn’t a fair comparison to make, she couldn’t help making it anyway. Because with Michael, it was supposed to be personal and he treated it like a business deal and with Josh, it was professional, but he treated her like a person.

They walked into the gym where balloons were on the corners of a platform that was set up in the middle of the large lacquered floor, facing bleachers that had already been pulled out. The platform had a large ‘Bartlet for America’ banner hanging behind the lectern and she noticed a few high school volunteers setting up a table near the entrance with the typical bumper stickers, buttons and flyers while others worked on setting up the sound system behind the stage. “Another gym. I ask you, is there anything tackier in the world than a high school gymnasium?” CJ said to Josh as Donna chuckled from behind them.

“Everyone uses a gym.”

She shrugged. “We’re not everyone. You’d think we could do better.”

“Like what? The local 587 with mold on the ceilings and rubber chicken for dinner?” 

“You have a valid… no,” CJ gasped, coming to a stop.

“What?”

“The lectern.”

Josh looked up at it and then… “Donna!”

“I’m right here,” Donna said casually, taking the last few steps to him.

He stepped in close to her, his aftershave sweet but not overpowering. “The lectern’s too tall. We need a shorter one,” he said quietly.

She raised her eyebrows as he looked at her expectantly. “Well… maybe it’s adjustable?”

“Go check, but be inconspicuous about it.”

She nodded and headed up to the stage as Sam and Toby raced by her arguing about the word ‘perennial.’ Stepping up the three small steps, she quickly crossed to the lectern and placed a piece of paper on it while checking it over. She looked up at Josh who was watching her and shook her head at him before heading back to where he stood. 

“Great,” CJ said. “He’s going to look like a dwarf behind that thing.”

“What about a stool or something for him to stand on behind it?” Donna asked.

Josh shook his head. “That’s no good. He’ll still be too short walking up to it and away from it; it’ll be obvious and then he’ll be the candidate who has to stand on a stepstool to be seen.”

“Except that he’d never stand on a stepstool,” the older woman said.

He turned to Donna. “Can you…” 

She nodded. “Just a thought, but we might want to get one made and keep it with us.”

CJ looked at her and then Josh. “You went to Harvard and Yale and after thirty of these things, you haven’t thought of that?” she said, hitting him on the shoulder. 

He half smirked. “I’m a big picture sort of guy.” Then he turned to Donna. “Go.” She nodded and walked away, hiding the smile on her face.

Heading out of the gymnasium and into the commons area of the school, she noticed a few high school students hanging around. A cheerleader stood against a wall wearing a blue uniform with ‘Trojans’ written in orange across the bust, flirting with what Donna guessed was a basketball player and she smiled, thinking of herself and Freddie Briggs six years earlier. 

She spotted a janitor coming out of a room and followed him down the hallway, finding him in an art room emptying the trash. After explaining the situation to him, he took her to a room off the auditorium where there were extra music stands, some drama props and a few lecterns. Finding an adjustable one, she started to leave with it when she noticed the stage with heavy blue curtains and hardwood floors. She walked out onto it and looked out at the theater style chairs and sound booth in the back. Glancing over at the janitor, she smiled. “Just out of curiosity, is there a reason they didn’t set us up in here? Is something else scheduled here for tonight?”

He shook his head. “No. They just told me to set up the stage on the gym floor.”

“And if we wanted to move in here…”

He shrugged. “Fine with me. So long as we don’t have to move the stage. There’s not time.”

“What about sound?”

“It’s already set up in here. They’d just have to hook up the mic.”

She smiled and nodded before leaving quickly to find Josh. She didn’t see him in the gymnasium, but CJ was talking to Toby and Donna walked up to them. “Tell me you found a lectern,” CJ said as she got close to them.

Donna nodded. “An adjustable one. And there’s an auditorium the janitor said we could use if we’d prefer it to the gym. It looked nice from what I saw and moving in there shouldn’t be a problem.”

CJ’s eyes widened. “Come work for me. Forget Josh. He’s grumpy most of the time anyway.”

Toby glanced up at Donna and then back down at the speech in his hands. “I already asked.”

Donna smiled politely and then perked up when she heard Josh yell her name. “I don’t yell as loudly as he does,” CJ tried again as the two of them started walking towards him.

“Then how would I know you needed me?” Donna asked with a smile before reaching him. 

********** 

The next half hour was spent moving the rally into the auditorium, giving them just enough time to get it ready before opening the doors for the public. When the rally started, she stood backstage watching the governor’s speech out of one eye and Josh out of the other. 

He got into a quiet discussion with Sam and Toby and she watched intently, itching to be a part of it. One of her favorite pastimes over the past two weeks had become listening in and watching as Josh worked. She was certain that if everyone just listened to him, the world would run smoother. He glanced over at her and smiled and she turned quickly and focused her attention on the governor again, embarrassed at being caught watching him work. A few seconds later, he was whispering in her ear. “I need you to research hate crimes.”

She continued facing the stage, but whispered back. “What do you need to know?”

He leaned in closer and his breath on her neck made her shiver. “I need to know what schools are teaching and when they’re teaching it.” 

They both paused and clapped with the crowd as the governor hit home on a spot in his speech about higher education standards and affordable college. He started to whisper again when the applause died down but got a glare from CJ and instead led her out the back door of the auditorium with his hand on her lower back. It was nice, she thought, protective and secure feeling, and she knew he didn’t mean anything by it; it just came with the close proximity of the campaign trail.

“He’s doing well tonight,” she said as she reached into his backpack and pulled out a small pad of paper. 

“Yeah.” His eyebrows reached his hairline as she reached into his suit jacket next and pulled out a pen from his inside pocket. 

“Ok, hate crimes,” she said, jotting it down.

He looked at her a few more seconds before shaking his head a bit and speaking. “Look for school programs. Schools teaching racial tolerance, racial equality, schools with panels or clubs, conflict mediators… And not just race, but religion and sexual orientation, and find out what grades they’re starting?”

She nodded, taking notes as he started pacing in the hallway behind the auditorium. 

“Elementary schools have less diversity so it might not seem needed if they aren’t inner city. But an average school system for a city of two hundred thousand has 50 elementary schools and those schools feed into twelve middle schools and then six high schools. Are they waiting until they get into high schools to start teaching this stuff?”

“What about the crime?”

He shook his head and stopped pacing, looking at her. “That’s not what this is about.”

She looked down at the piece of paper she’d just written ‘Hate Crimes’ on and then up at him. “What’s it about?”

Walking back up to her, he said, “Education, Donna. Education.”

She looked at him strangely. “Not crime?”

He shook his head. “It looks like crime, but it all boils down to education. All of it.”

She put the paper and pen down on top of his backpack and stood upright, leaning against the wall, wondering if he knew who much she loved these little moments that he explained these things to her. “How?”

He stood next to her, mimicking her actions and leaning against the wall himself. “If we fix education, the rest falls in line. Better education means less poverty. Less poverty equals less crime, equals fewer drugs, equals fewer prisons, equals a better America.”

She looked over at him and studied his face as he watched her intently. “So it all boils down to education,” she said, repeating him.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Which means it all boils down to kids.”

He nodded again and smiled as if she’d gotten some amazing secret. She felt like she had. “Absolutely. They need to be our top priority. Pre-school through college. Our top priority.”

She smiled at him, at his brown eyes dancing mischievously, at his dimples as he smiled for her, at the way his foot kicked at his backpack, and got lost in it all. She’d never felt more complete in her life, and it struck her as ironic considering that a month previously, she’d had her entire future planned out. 

The door to the auditorium stage swung open and hit Josh in the back as Sam walked out of it looking for him. “Hey,” he said, looking around the open door at the two of them. “What’s going on?”

Josh looked over at him. “Hate crime. Donna’s gonna do some research on it. How’s it going in there?”

“He’s almost done. We need to get out to the reception, smile nicely and be polite.”

Josh’s eyes widened. “I’m always nice.”

Sam chuckled and looked at Donna. “Keep an eye on him.”

********** 

The bus pulled into the hotel parking lot and Donna glanced at her watch; five after one. Trying to stifle a yawn, she turned to Josh. “Did you need that research done tonight?” she asked, not sure if she wanted him to say yes or no. She was exhausted, but excited to be working on a new project for him.

“Nah, you can start it when we get back to Manchester tomorrow.” He pushed the button on the elevator, but turned to her while they waited for it. “There’s a bar a few blocks from here. Let’s go get a drink.”

Her eyes widened and she glanced around at a few other volunteers waiting with them. “Ok,” she said hesitantly.

They dropped their things off in their rooms and walked a few blocks down to a small bar. It was quiet outside, far quieter than it had been since she joined the campaign, and she glanced at him around the hood of her coat as he walked quietly next to her. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, but she wished he’d talk, and when out of the blue he did start talking about that evening’s rally, her nervousness faded and she shrugged it off. Walking inside, her contacts immediately fought the smoke and she reached into her purse for some eye drops before looking around at a few people sitting at the bar and two men playing darts off to the side. It was empty otherwise and she waited while Josh walked to the bar and ordered a few beers, then followed him to a booth towards the back.

“So what does your family think of you gallivanting all around the country with us?” he asked as they sat down.

“They’re just happy I’m not a rock band groupie,” she said, taking off her coat. He looked up at her hair with raised eyebrows and she unconsciously smoothed it down.

“Hey, we can be just as rowdy as a rock band,” he said with a smirk.

“I’m sure you can be.”

It was quiet again while she sat down and took a drink of her beer. “Seriously, what do they think about you out here?”

She shrugged. “My mom convinced me to come. Dad, like all good husbands, goes along with whatever she tells him. He’s just glad I’m not with Michael anymore. In fact, he’s a pretty big fan of your nickname for him.”

His smiled and looked at her inquisitively. “You tell your parents about me?”

Suddenly she felt like a pathetic school girl telling her mommy all about the cute new teacher and she looked down at her beer bottle wishing she could take the words back. “I just…” 

“I mention you to my parents too.”

Her eyes shot up as he took a drink of his beer. “You do?”

He nodded and swallowed. “Sure. I told my mom about that salad you made me eat the other day and the way you hired yourself. My dad’s…” He stopped suddenly and started picking at the label of his bottle.

“Your dad’s sick,” she said quietly after a moment.

He looked at her for a second before nodding. “How’d you know?” he asked quietly.

“Yesterday morning I heard you ask your mom how his treatment went. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just…”

He cut her off. “It’s ok,” he said nodding slightly. “He has cancer. Mom’s been stressed.” He stopped then and shrugged. “She likes the stories. Gives her something to laugh about.”

She smiled softly at him before his words registered and a look of mortification came across her face. “Laugh about? What exactly did you tell her?”

His eyes widened as he looked at her over the bottle that was up to his mouth. “Nothing?” he almost asked, scrunching up his face.

“You told her about the ice, didn’t you?”

He shrugged and smirked. “It was a funny story Donna. You were completely underneath that car with only your head sticking out.”

“That’s not funny!”

“Yes it is,” he said laughing. “That lady screamed when she saw you like she was in some sort of horror story.”

“They almost pulled out and ran over me.”

“Nah, I’d have saved you.”

“Sure,” she said shaking her head and pretending to be annoyed. “What other humiliating stories did you tell her?”

“None,” he said loudly, defending himself. “Well, I might have mentioned how you dropped the three-hole punch on your foot last week and had the little pieces of paper all over the floor and in your hair and had to have a band aid for your pinky toe.”

“Josh!”

“She needs to laugh, Donna,” he said, defending himself with a cute smile on his face that brought out the dimples she too often found herself enamored with.

“She’s gonna think I’m a nutcase!”

“Nah, she thinks you’re cute.”

She groaned and put her head in her hands. “Sure.”

“And she likes that you watch out for me.”

She looked up at him and tried to keep the smile on her face from spreading, but wasn’t able to. Glancing down at the table, she said, “My parents like that you watch out for me, too.”

It was quiet while they looked at each other. Finally he nodded and she bit her bottom lip and looked down at her beer bottle, trying to hide her blush. “So tell me about Madison,” he said a few seconds later, breaking the silence. “Did you grow up on a farm?”

She looked at him strangely and shook her head. “No, I grew up in a condo.”

“Well, that’s not very exciting,” he said like a child who’d gotten socks for his birthday. 

She stifled a laugh. “No. Tell me about DC.”

“DC’s DC. What do you want to know?”

She sat forward in her seat. “What’s the mall like?” she asked excitedly.

He shrugged. “There’s a big statue of Lincoln and a long pool that goes knee deep.” 

“Josh…” she whined and he chuckled at her.

“What do you want me to say? You’ve seen it on TV; you know what it looks like.”

“That’s not the same,” she asked with big eyes. “Is it awe inspiring?”

He looked at her for a few seconds before nodding. “It’s best at night. It’s all lit up. It’s…” he shrugged. “Neat.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When we win, I’ll take you.”

She smiled. “You will?”

“Before inauguration. Once we’re in office we won’t have time.”

She chuckled at him. “We won’t have time for the mall?”

“We won’t have time for anything.”

“Nothing? Not even the Mets?” she asked skeptically.

“Donna...” he said in a voice she could swear sounded serious, “Don’t even joke about that.” 

********** 

“Hello.”

“Mom?!?” she said with far too much excitement for three o’clock in the morning.

She heard her mom chuckling into the phone. “Honey,” she said in a sleepy voice, reminding Donna that most of the world was asleep. “You don’t have to shout.”

“Sorry,” she said, still full of excitement and a bit over the top.

She could hear her mom moving around and pictured her putting on her flannel robe and tiptoeing out of the dark bedroom. “How’d it go?”

“It went… it was… Mom, I love it here!” she yelled. She spun around her hotel room looking for something, but in the excitement, couldn’t remember what it was she needed.

“I can tell. How’d your rally go?”

“I was amazing,” she said in awe as she plopped down on the bed. “There were so many people there, and the governor gave a great speech and Josh kept having me run here and there and write down questions for Friday’s polling, and go up and ask Mr… Toby and CJ things. It was non-stop from the second we got there. It was…” She couldn’t sit still so she stood back up. 

“Yeah?”

“And,” she said proudly as she passed by the mirror and stopped short as she noticed she could still see. Walking into the bathroom, she pulled out her contacts with one hand as she held the phone with the other. “We were supposed to be in the gym, but I noticed the auditorium, which was nicer, and got permission to use it and then things got even crazier because the doors were opening in twenty minutes and we had to move everything over there, but it worked out and looked so much more professional, and Josh told Ms. Cregg to stay the hell away from me.”

“He told who to stay away from you?”

“Ms. Cregg. CJ. You have to know Josh. He doesn’t compliment so much as he tells other people they can’t have me.”

“Ahh…”

“And there was a reception afterwards in the commons and Josh introduced me to the governor and they all talked to people and answered questions, and it was like Josh always knew what parts of the governor’s platform to focus on for a specific person. Like he knew exactly what they were thinking and what they cared about. He’s…”

“You met the governor?” 

“Yes, and Josh let me answer questions I felt comfortable with and I’m really starting to understand things better. And yesterday, he had me sit in on a meeting he had with two congressmen from Pennsylvania. I was just sitting there, listening to congressmen talk. Can you believe that? And Josh was brilliant! I thought he’d have to suck up to them, but he didn’t take their crap. He’s amazing!”

“So I’ve heard,” her mom replied, chuckling. 

“I love it here.”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

“And when we move to DC, he’s going to take me to the mall and show me around town and help me find an apartment and…”

Her mom cut her off. “When you move to DC?”

“When we win.”

“When you win?”

“Yeah, when we…”

“Donna…”

“Yeah?”

“I thought you were coming home in May when summer classes started.”

“Oh,” she said, stopping and staring at blurred figure in the mirror. “I…” This was going to end? 

“Sweetheart?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath and was surprised that tears sprung to her eyes. “He said it like it was assumed I’d be going too and I must’ve gotten caught up…”

“Donna.”

“I know,” she said softly, sitting down on the bed and taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Donna,” her mom said a few seconds later. “There are colleges in DC.”

“What?”

“I said there are colleges in DC. There’s no law saying you have to go to college in Madison. There is, however, a Moss law saying you have to go.”

Suddenly she was smiling and nodding and crying, knowing that her mom couldn’t see it but would know it was there all the same. “Deal,” she whispered. 

“Alright Honey. Go to sleep. It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“Three o’clock here.”

“Go to bed.”

“Kay. Mom?”

“Yeah?”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Baby.”


	4. Stumbling into Life

She pulled on her pantyhose and took her dress out of the plastic dry cleaning bag, still ignoring the fluttering in her stomach that started around the time she got out of bed that morning. She’d already double and triple checked the decorations, the sound system, and the seating chart and had checked in again with the caterer and the string quintet, as well as the hotel manager. Everything was fine, was perfect, actually. The fundraiser, fingers-crossed, would go even better than the one in South Carolina had almost a month earlier. 

Yet still, she’d felt all day like she might be ill, and she thought that probably wouldn’t have gone over too well in front of Josh and the others. She took another deep breath as she pulled the dress, the last nice dress she had, up and over her hips, zipping it as far as she could reach. Another one of these things and she’d have to resort to her six year-old pink taffeta prom dress, which she was fairly certain wouldn’t be appropriate.

There was a knock on the door and the fluttering intensified itself almost to the point of being un-ignorable. She took a deep breath and checked her hair and make-up one last time before walking to the door and opening it with a smile. He was on the phone and walked in without a hello or even looking at her, continuing his discussion and crushing the fluttering altogether.

She watched him for several seconds as he walked over to the window and opened the heavy drapes to the not so stunning view of the parking lot below. Shaking her head, she gathered up as much pride as she could muster and walked into the bathroom, touching up her make-up and hair as the conversation faded into the background. 

Suddenly she was tired. She’d been up since five o’clock that morning after having gone to bed at two. She was only moderately successful at sleeping on the bus, usually choosing to stay awake and listen to conversations he had with Sam and Toby, and on the best of days, Leo and the governor. But not sleeping on the bus meant grabbing a few fitful hours when they reached their destination, which in the current case, happened to be Chicago. 

She looked at her face in the mirror and smiled, trying to erase the look of disappointment on it. The smile looked fake, however, the glow and excitement from earlier gone completely. There would come a time, she knew, that she wouldn’t be able to continue denying it to herself; the real reason for the stomach fluttering, the real reason for staying up in busses to listen to conversations, the real reason she was glad Mandy had gone back to DC three days earlier and wouldn’t be there that night drinking champagne and dancing with him in front of her. Eventually she’d have to come clean with herself, but she refused to do it then, a half hour before the second fundraiser she’d been put in charge of overseeing. And she certainly wouldn’t do it while he stood in the next room on the phone not noticing her.

“You uh… didn’t get all zipped up there.”

Her eyes quickly caught his in the mirror and she wished they weren’t so soft. Brown eyes had always been that in the past, brown, but somehow his were different. “I couldn’t reach it,” she said with a dry mouth.

He smiled at her through the mirror and walked up behind her, one hand landing on the zipper and the other on her bare shoulder. Never breaking eye contact, he zipped it slowly. “You look stunning, by the way,” he said quietly.

The flutter came back instantaneously and she nearly winced at the feeling while mentally scolding herself for being one of those girls. Still, a large and definitely not fake smile appeared on her face along with the faint heat of a blush. “Thank you.”

Their eyes locked and for the briefest of seconds she could almost convince herself that she wasn’t the only one affected; then he looked away, something she herself could never quite do, and she looked quickly down at the mascara in her hand.

“So,” he said, walking back out into the bedroom. “That was Congressman Davidson, claiming that something came up and he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”

“But you talked him into it anyway, right?” she asked, applying a bit more mascara, her excuse to take a moment and get her breathing and stomach fluttering under control.

“I did. How did you know that?”

She smiled and put the cap back on the mascara. “I have complete faith in you.”

“You do,” he said softly, causing her to look up in the mirror again, their eyes locking once more and the temptation to believe he felt this electricity too almost becoming too much. “You about ready?”

Closing her eyes briefly, she nodded and opened them again. “Your bowtie…” she said, turning around and walking into the bedroom, faint at the full view of him in a tux with his bowtie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Yeah,” he said, looking into the mirror on the dresser. “I hate these things.”

She smiled. “You’re going to whine now?”

“Hey, you don’t know how bad they are. You don’t have to wear them. They choke you and move around and...”

“You’re comparing a bowtie to the three inch heels I’m about to put on?” she asked with a smile, cutting him off and walking up to him, pulling on the ends of the bowtie and starting to tie it. 

He looked down at her as she tied the bowtie, neither of them saying anything, and she could feel her cheeks turning warm again as her fingers grazed his neck and Adam’s apple. She didn’t dare look up at him until she was completely done and had taken a step back, and when she did, he smiled the dimpled smile she was quickly becoming addicted to and turned back to the mirror to adjust it. “Well,” he said, taking a step back and nodding at himself, “we’re adding that to your job description.”

She chuckled at him and stepped around him to put on her shoes. He walked to the door and held it open for her, placing his hand securely on her back as they walked down the hall towards the elevator. Another thing she was becoming addicted to. 

“Stay close tonight. I might have a few impromptu meetings,” he said as they walked into the hotel convention hall a few minutes later.

“Anyone we’re looking out for,” she asked as she looked around, doing a quick sweep of the room, the centerpieces with real roses, the tasteful silver balloons in the corners of the room, the superbly set tables, and the wait staff walking around with champagne, wine and hors d oeuvres. She smiled to herself at a job well done as Josh handed her a glass of wine off a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Anyone who wants to give us money,” he said, taking a drink of the wine he’d taken for himself.

Sam came up then and told her she looked nice in a way that didn’t make her heart flutter before tearing Josh away to meet a potential donor. She watched them leaving and then turned around looking for Margaret, the closest thing to a friend she had on the campaign with the exception of Josh. Not seeing her, she wandered into the kitchen to check with the caterer. Dinner was to be served at 7:30pm, and she wanted to make sure one more time that the wait staff knew where to take the requested vegetarian meals.

She left the kitchen a few minutes later and went to where the string quintet was playing in the back corner of the large room. She stood quietly off to the side listening to the Bach Fugue in G minor, then spoke with one of the violinists about the order for the program after dinner.

She kept an eye out for Josh the entire evening, raising her eyebrows at him when they made contact as if to ask if he needed anything. A few times he motioned for her and she went up to him, taking checks and meeting people, including Congressman Davidson, but mostly he just smiled back at her and turned back to whatever conversation he was in at the moment.

After dinner she mingled and smiled, taking a few minutes to dip into the kitchen and thank the wait staff on behalf of the governor for a job well done. An hour later, she stood twenty feet or so from Josh, barely listening to a conversation she was having with an older married couple and a young lawyer who worked on the mayor’s staff. When the lawyer asked her to dance, she smiled politely and let him lead her to the dance floor where he talked about the decline in Chicago’s crime and unemployment rate and the possibility of the mayor running for the Senate in two years. 

“Do you mind if I cut in,” she heard from behind her, the fluttering back again.

The man looked hesitantly at Donna before looking back at Josh and nodding. “Of course, Mr. Lyman.”

Josh watched the man walk away with a smirk on his face then took her hand in one of his, his other hand holding her at a safe distance around her back. “That guy was hitting on you,” he said quietly with a hint of disgust in his voice.

She looked at him and shook her head, nearly his height now that she was wearing heels. “No he wasn’t.”

“Donna, I know when a man’s hitting on a woman. He was hitting on you.”

She let the hand on his shoulder travel up and around his neck a bit, knowing she shouldn’t but just dying to toy with his curls. “Nah. He was just hoping I could get him a meeting with you.”

He pulled her closer, their chests nearly touching and his cologne mixing with her perfume in an intoxicating way. “Well for future reference, men who look at you like that don’t get meetings with me.”

“Josh…” she scoffed at him, trying to hide the smile on her face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” shaking her head lightly. “I’m just trying to decide if that was barbaric or sweet.”

He pulled back a bit and looked her in the face with a frown. “Men aren’t sweet.”

“So it was barbaric?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“No, it was…”

“Sweet,” she said teasingly as they turned and nearly bumped into another couple. He gave her an ‘oops’ look and spun her the other way as she laughed a little at him.

A moment later, he said, “Chivalrous.”

“Chivalrous?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Yes,” he said, flashing her a dimpled smile that she wished didn’t turn her knees to Jell-o. “I’m a prince amongst men.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” she said chuckling before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “Thank you, by the way.”

He pulled her closer again, pulling their entwined hands to the small space between them and resting them on his chest. “Anytime.” 

********** 

A week later they were back in Manchester, where they’d spent all of four days since she’d started the campaign more than a month previously. The lingering looks and fluttering stomach had been getting harder to ignore, especially those times that the sparks felt anything but one-sided, but that afternoon Mandy had arrived in town and walked into Josh’s office without so much as a nod hello, and since then, he’d been holed up in a room with her, Sam, Toby, and Leo.

The door would open occasionally and she’d hear Mandy screaming, usually at Josh, and each time she’d wonder what exactly it was he saw in her. Mandy was Angie Kortee, she decided, her high school nemesis. Angie was always first chair in band, leaving Donna to sit second, she always had the cutest guys chasing her, and she was, quite simply, always a bitch.

She’d only met Mandy a few times, the first being her third day on the campaign in South Carolina when Mandy had taken one look at her and without so much as a hello, had grabbed Josh by the arm and dragged him off into another room in the hotel suite, screaming at him for five solid minutes, apparently not taking into account that the walls were thin and everyone in the main room could hear her calling Donna his ‘latest toy’ and the ‘stray he’d picked up.’ She’d almost quit that day, almost turned and walked out of the hotel suite and to the nearest bus station, the only thing keeping her there her inability to make her feet move. Josh had apologized to her later when her silence had made it obvious that she’d heard, and Mandy had left for DC two days later.

The next time they met was on a short trip to Buffalo that Josh had insisted he and Donna go on when he caught her sleeping on the floor of his office. That time, Mandy had taken extra care in putting Donna in her place, asking her to run personal errands and to fetch coffee and other things Josh had never asked her to do, making sure to ask when he wasn’t within ear shot. She’d smiled, not quite understanding what this woman’s problem with her was, and after two errands had just stuck close to Josh until Mandy was gone the next morning. She hoped her trip this time would be just as short.

“What are you doing?”

Startled, she looked up from the paper she was absently proofing to see him standing in front of her desk watching her. “Huh?” she asked dumbly as she told herself not to stare at his arms. The rolled up sleeves were becoming a problem she hadn’t counted on.

He gave her a strange look. “What are you doing with your hand?” he asked, motioning with his head to her left arm which was propped on her desk by the elbow, her hand hanging in mid air.

She looked at her hand. “Oh,” she said tiredly. “Finger conducting.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked in a teasing voice.

She put her hand down. “I’m listening to Yo Yo Ma.” ‘And obsessing about you,’ lingered unsaid in her mind. 

“And finger conducting,” he said as though it made perfect sense.

She sighed as if she had a hundred other things to do when in fact she loved these little moments they stole away from the campaign, also a problem she hadn’t counted on. “It’s a habit. You’d rather I actually conduct?”

“Do you have a baton?” 

“Not here,” she said with a pointed look while standing up and glancing around for signs of the wicked witch before walking into his office with some things to file. “But I do at home.”

“You have a baton,” he said skeptically as he followed her into his office where she started rooting around the boxes on the metal shelves behind his desk.

“I was a drum major in high school,” she said matter of factly.

“And you conducted with your fingers?” he asked, standing behind her close enough that she could smell his aftershave and with a voice that let her know he was smirking. 

“No… I conducted the traditional way.”

“Mmm...”

She turned around and handed him a file, trying to ignore the fact that he was standing so close, yet another problem she hadn’t counted on. “Why were you watching me finger conduct anyway?”

He shrugged. “It looked like something my sister used to do,” he mumbled.

“You have a sister?” she asked with a smile. “How is it that I’ve been here for almost than four weeks and I didn’t know you have a sister?”

“I…” he glanced down at the file she’d given him and then back up at her. “She died in a fire when I was little.”

Her eyes widened and she felt tears instantly building behind them as she looked at the pain in his. It was silent for several seconds and he uncomfortably looked back down at the file she’d given him. She wanted to hug him so badly, but wasn't sure it was appropriate, so she put down the files in her hands and walked around him to the front of his desk, sitting down very straight on the edge of the chair there. “Tell me about her,” she said softly.

He looked over at her with what she thought was a surprised look on his face. “She was uh…” he paused for what felt like minutes and continued staring at her. Finally, he took a deep breath and walked around to his chair, sitting down across from her and propping his elbows on his desk. “She was a pianist. She wanted to be a conductor. She used to walk around conducting to her records.”

She smiled softly and nodded. “Did she have a baton?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly with a faint smile on his face. “Dad bought her one for her tenth birthday.”

“What else?”

“She used to pick on me.” He stopped and raised his eyebrows at her. “Not unlike you.”

“You’re very pick-on-able. She was older than you?”

“Yes, and her friends used to pinch my cheeks,” he said in an almost whiney voice, making her smile wider.

“Because of the dimples,” she said as though she knew.

“Yes.”

“Did she look like you?”

He tilted his head a little and thought. “A little, but she was short, like Mom, and she had Mom’s dark hair.”

“And was she a good piano player?”

He nodded. “She played all the time. You couldn’t keep her away from it. If we were home she was in the library practicing.” He paused for a second and she waited, watching him. “Mom signed me up for lessons when I was five, but she had to make me practice.”

“You could never sit still long enough,” she said as fact.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and smiling at her. “But Joanie could. She’d sit there all day if you let her. Sometimes she’d sit with me when I practiced and then it wasn’t so bad. She liked playing teacher so we made a game of it.”

“Do you still play?”

“Nah, I quit after she…”

He stopped and she nodded but didn’t say anything for a several moments. “I’m sorry I never had a chance to meet her.”

He looked up and quirked one side of his mouth up. “Yeah, me too. She would’ve liked you.”

“Thank you for telling me about her,” she said quietly.

He didn’t respond, just looked at her, their eyes locked. She was the fist to pull away this time, standing up after several seconds and walking to the door before looking back at him one more time. He was still watching her and she smiled softly before turning around and leaving.

She walked slowly past her desk to the restroom, walking inside and letting a small tear fall down her cheek. She was in love with her boss, and he looked at her like a sister.


	5. Stumbling into Life

“Donna,” Josh said quietly, not really bringing her out of sleep, but stirring her enough to make her sigh. “Come on Donna, it’s time for bed.”

“Kay,” she said in a tiny voice, eyes still closed and breathing still steady as her head rested on his shoulder.

She could barely make out the sound of him chuckling, but that along with a small light coming on just above her head and sounds of something opening and closing nearby helped to pull her into consciousness. She turned her head away from the light, burying it in his neck.

“Hey,” he whispered into her hair. She sighed again, still somewhere between asleep and awake where Josh whispering into her hair was allowed to be enjoyed.

“What time is it?” she whispered, not moving her head.

“Quarter after midnight.”

Rubbing her nose lightly on the collar of his shirt, she kept her eyes closed. “Where are we?”

“Manchester.”

“Your car’s at headquarters,” she said, yawning.

He chuckled again and said, “We’re here.”

It was another few seconds before she yawned and sat up, squinting her eyes, her contacts dry and sticking to her pupils. She rubbed at them, a half-frown, half-pout on her face. When she could finally focus, she looked at him watching her with a soft smile on his own exhausted face. 

She smiled back at him, his hair sticking up and his eyes tired, and she wondered if that’s what he looked like in the mornings when he hit the snooze on his alarm clock, because she was positive he was a snooze hitter. Yawning, she turned to look through the window where she could see the Bartlet for America signs hanging in the windows and snow covering the sidewalks outside. She looked back at the people in the bus with them stretching and pulling things down from the overhead bins. There was a line to the front of the bus where people were starting to get out and she figured they had a few more minutes. “Wake me when it’s our turn,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and falling back onto his shoulder.

“Ok, but the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can be in bed, with blankets and pillows.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she shot up into a sitting position and, suddenly wide awake, stared at him with large eyes, sure her heart rate had sped up to the point where he could feel it as she sat close to him. He smirked at her, oblivious as always to what he did to her, and patted her thigh before standing up, opening the overhead bin and pulling down her purse and his backpack. 

Forcing her eyes off of him, she adjusted her pony tail and searched her mind for a comeback to keep up appearances. “I have a pillow,” she said a few seconds later, her voice hiding her nerves. “You stole it.”

“No, I traded it for use of my shoulder.”

That was true, and even half asleep, she was certain she’d gotten the far better end of that deal. “But you stuck me by the window where it was cold,” she pouted, picking up his suit jacket from her lap and handing it to him.

“Yeah, well next time I’ll take the cold seat and sleep and you can stay awake and argue with Toby about social security.”

Her pout grew and she huffed while looking at the seat back in front of her. “I wanted to listen to that,” she mumbled to herself.

He chuckled and shook his head at her. “You and I argued about low income single mothers earlier. That wasn’t enough?”

She shrugged. “I guess.” She looked up at him. “Did you win your argument with Toby?”

“Don’t I always?” he asked with a smirk.

Yes, he always did. She figured that had to be part of the reason he was so huge in her eyes. She sat there watching him while he shoved things, including her neck pillow, into his backpack, and she knew it was more than dimples and biceps that made her fall so hard and so fast. It was his mind, his ability to be brilliant and still be so… him. She didn’t have a name for it… the ‘him’ part of it, but she knew it to be the most important and amazing part and she found herself wondering how he’d managed to hang onto it working with the likes of John Hoynes and others who’d lost that part of themselves so long ago.

He moved out of the way then and she climbed out into the aisle, following him out of the bus and to the storage space below. She wiped at her eyes again and waited as the driver unloaded small suitcases, garment bags and file boxes out of the space and lined them up against the bus.

“What time do I have Congressman Richards in the morning?”

She looked over at him with half-open eyes, always amazed at his energy, yet still tempted to hit him on the arm for requesting such information at midnight in the parking lot of the headquarters after having gotten up at five o’clock that morning. “Eight o’clock at the diner,” she said, equally amazed that she knew the answer. “He wants to talk about polling numbers and education. I put the folder in your backpack so you wouldn’t have to go into the office first.”

“When are we getting the new polling numbers?”

“Margaret was going to slip them under your door tonight.”

He smiled at her and handed her his backpack, which she took instinctively, then grabbed both of their suitcases and pulled them behind him as he walked towards his car. She watched him in shock for a few seconds before smiling and following him. “What time is senior staff?” he asked as he unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.

“9:30, so make sure you’re back here on time. I’ll be gone; you’re on your own until the governor’s speech on campus tomorrow night.”

His eyes widened. “Donna!”

She shook her head and told herself not to smile. “I’m driving to Hanover in the morning to coordinate with local volunteers. You’ll be fine.” He mumbled something as he walked around to the driver’s side door and climbed inside. 

When they got to the Comfort Inn, Donna got out of the car and started to take her suitcase, but Josh took it from her hands, his fingers closing over hers. “I’ve got it, you’re about to fall over,” he said quietly. She looked up at him, their bodies close to each other, and she wondered what it might be like to kiss him, just this once. Just to see. But then he turned and walked inside and towards the elevators, and she closed her eyes for a brief second and told herself to get a grip. 

When they reached the elevator, Josh let go of the suitcases and hit the up button. Donna leaned against the wall, her eyes closed again, grateful that Leo had finally ok’d her a hotel room while they were in town. Now if only he’d ok her being put on payroll... 

“Perfect timing.” She let her head fall, recognizing Mandy’s voice immediately, and tried to keep a groan from slipping from her mouth.

She plastered on her best fake smile and opened her eyes just in time to see Mandy lean in and kiss Josh thoroughly as he stood there in shock, and as if someone had slapped in her in the face, she closed them again quickly and tried to erase the moment from her mind.

“What are you doing here?” Josh asked just as the elevator opened. Donna opened her eyes again, avoiding looking at them and telling herself that she had to make her feet move into the elevator and to her room, because that was the only way to get away from them. 

Without a word, Mandy shoved her suitcase into Josh’s hand and walked into the elevator. Donna blinked once before grabbing her own and walking in as well. Josh looked up at her with an apologetic expression as he wheeled in his and Mandy’s and she smiled back briefly before pushing the button for the third floor and smiling at Mandy.

Mandy ignored her. “Hoynes has a huge lead in college age voters. Leo called; we’ve been in meetings all day,” she said, nudging herself into his side

“Right.” The elevator arrived at their floor then and the three of them walked down the hallway. When they reached Josh’s door, Donna handed him his backpack and continued three doors down to her own room, pausing to look over at him holding the door open for Mandy as she walked through. He looked up at her and smiled softly, holding her gaze for just a second before turning and walking into the room.

********** 

The door hadn’t even closed behind her before she’d started crying. And as she’d curled up on her bed in the pitch black room and sobbed for this thing that would never be, she couldn’t get the feeling out of her mind that she was stupid and naïve and horrible. Stupid for letting every touch, every smile, every look get to her and make her fall harder. Naïve for the few times she allowed those touches and smiles and looks to make her think maybe. Maybe it was possible that he saw her as something other than a kid sister or an assistant who followed him around like a lap dog. And horrible, so unbelievably, unforgivably horrible for wanting what another woman had. For wanting to be in that room, that bed, instead of her. For the few times she wouldn’t have cared that he was with someone else. Given the opportunity, she would have taken it, damned the consequences or the woman in his life. And that was the worst of the three, because she wasn’t that woman, she’d never been that woman, but for him, she feared that she could be.

She must’ve fallen asleep that way, because a light tapping on the door a few minutes before one woke her. She rolled to face the ceiling she couldn’t see in the dark room, knowing who it was and knowing she shouldn’t answer the door. If she just lay still, he’d eventually assume she hadn’t heard him and give up and go back to his room. Back to the bed with Mandy in it, and it was that thought that propelled her up and had her shuffling to the door in the blackness, stubbing her toe on her suitcase along the way. Because even though she knew he’d be going back to that bed anyway, when he’d told her whatever he came to tell her, she could postpone it. And if she could, she would.

She looked through the peephole to make sure it was him and then opened the door a crack, the metal bar across it keeping it from opening too far. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hey,” she whispered back, squinting at the harsh light in the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down the hall towards his room before looking back at her and shrugging. “I just wondered if your room looked like mine.”

She smiled a little at his absurdity. “It’s a Comfort Inn. Did you think mine would be better decorated?”

He smirked. “Maybe.” Holding up two bottles of Bud Light, he said, “I brought beer.”

She smiled; they usually worked in his room and had taken to keeping Bud Light in the refrigerator even though he claimed light beer wasn’t real man’s beer. Noticing a piece of paper in his hands, she quirked her eyebrows. “What else did you bring, Joshua?” 

“Nothing,” he said with wide eyes, playing innocent poorly.

“Nothing?” she asked sarcastically.

“Well…” he said smiling, flashing his dimples. “Maybe some polling numbers for the southeast.”

“Ahh…”

“I thought since we’re both up…”

“I was in bed.”

He smirked. “But you’re up now.”

“Because you woke me up.”

“Funny how that works.” He held up the beer again, wiggling it in front of her face. “I brought beer.” 

Opening the door farther, she rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Come in.”

He walked past her and flipped on the light on his way into the room. She let the door close and watched him in his plain white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. He was barefoot and had hair sticking up everywhere and she smiled even as a part of herself told her that moments like this only made it harder on her in the long run.

He walked to one of the double beds to sit down, but instead looked at it and then over at the other. “You weren’t asleep?” he asked, still looking at the beds.

She pulled herself out of thought. “Hmm…”

“The beds are…” he trailed off gesturing to the two made beds in the room. Turning towards her, he took in her appearance. “And you’re dressed.”

Her eyes widened as she thought of walking in the room forty five minutes earlier and falling onto the bed crying. “I fell asleep before I had a chance to put on my pajamas,” she said quietly.

“In your shoes?” he nearly screeched.

She looked confused for a second, then glanced down at her feet and smiled. “Guess so.”

He started to smirk, looking for a way to tease her, she knew, but stopped suddenly. “What happened to your face?” he asked seriously.

She knew she must look horrible, she’d seen herself plenty of times after crying. Red puffy eyes, blotchy skin, mascara smeared down her cheeks. She played innocent. “Gee Joshua, that’s a nice thing to say to a woman.”

He ignored her. “Have you been crying?”

She shook her head and turned to look into the mirror on the dresser. It wasn’t quite as bad as she’d feared. Her eyes were red but not puffy, and although her skin was blotchy, there was no mascara to be found. It must’ve worn off earlier in the day. “I just need to take out my contacts,” she said as she started rooting through the suitcase she’d dropped as she walked in.

He watched her for a few seconds through the mirror and she could see doubt in his eyes. But he eventually nodded, taking her story at face value. “Go ahead and…” he gestured towards the bathroom and sat down on one of the beds.

She took her toiletries and pajamas into the bathroom and washed her face. She was tired, exhausted, but the few minutes of sleep she must’ve gotten had taken the edge off. Either way, she wasn’t going to tell him she was too tired to work. Not when she knew what awaited him three rooms down. She’d push through if she had to, she’d done it countless times for Michael, helping him study all night and then going into work the next morning. Besides, she thought, he probably wouldn’t be there all that long. What could the two of them do with polling numbers from the southeast at one o’clock in the morning, anyway?

When she came back out a few minutes later, he’d turned off the main lights and turned on the one between the beds. He was sitting on the bed farthest from the bathroom, propped against the headboard with his legs stretched out looking at the paper he’d brought with him, a Bud Light opened and sitting on the night stand, and she found herself picturing, not for the first time, the two of them as a couple, lying in bed just like that watching a movie and cuddled up together under the covers. Pushing the thought out of her head, she sat down on the other bed. “Ok, polling numbers.”

He looked up at her. “You’re wearing glasses.”

“It’s either that or run into walls,” she said yawning.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m cold too,” she said, standing up and pulling back the covers on her bed, crawling inside and then reaching down and pulling off her socks.

“You’re cold but you took off your socks?” he asked with a smirk.

“You can’t wear socks in bed, Josh,” she said as though it were common knowledge.

“You can’t?” he asked doubtfully.

She shook her head. “No.”

“This is like… a Donnatella Moss rule?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “This differs greatly from your cantaloupe rule, does it?”

His mouth dropped open in shock. “People call it mush melon, Donna!”

She chuckled. “Yes, and it’s orange.”

“Right.”

“And socks shouldn’t be worn in bed.”

He watched her with a smile before finally nodding, then stood up and got under the covers of the second bed. She watched him settle in, pulling the covers up around himself and putting both pillows under his head. Then he turned onto his side so he faced her and they watched each other quietly for a few seconds.

It was in these quiet moments that she let her mind wander the most, and that wasn’t healthy she knew, so she broke eye contact by adjusting the pillow under her own head. “So what’s up in the southeast?”

He furrowed his brow before realizing what she was asking, then picked up the data off the nightstand and looked at it. “It’s better than we anticipated.”

She smiled. “That’s great.”

“Yeah…”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

He looked up at her. “No, I just… I’m surprised. It’s the south. The bible belt.”

She yawned, trying to keep her eyes open. “The governor believes in God.”

“He’s still pretty liberal for the bible belt.”

“Yeah…” she said yawning again as her eyelids got heavier.

She woke up, the room dark again, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was 3:43, and she reached over to turn on the light on the nightstand. Before she had a chance, Josh’s beer bottle caught her attention and she glanced at the other bed, surprised to see him asleep in it. She smiled at the sight of him on his back, a pillow over his face and his right foot sticking out of the covers. She propped herself up on an elbow and watched him as her eyes adjusted to the dark. After a few minutes, she fumbled with the alarm clock and took off her glasses before going back to sleep. When the alarm went off at seven, he was gone.

********** 

The rest of Tuesday had gone strangely. Once she realized Josh was gone, she reset the alarm and slept until nine, the latest she’d slept since arriving in Manchester exactly six weeks earlier. Feeling better after a decent amount of sleep, she shook off the previous evening’s cry-fest and took a long shower before driving an hour and a half to Dartmouth University in Hanover to help the local volunteers prepare for the President’s rally that evening. 

The bus with the rest of the staff and the governor arrived around five, and she walked outside the student union waiting for Josh to come swaggering off, sure he’d have a million things for her to do. Toby was one of the first off, and he walked up to her while talking on the phone to someone. He handed her a manila envelope and covered the phone with his hand. “Josh told me to give you this. He’s not coming.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s not?”

Toby shook his head. “Leo gave him the night off since Mandy’s in town.”

Toby stood there as if waiting for some sort of reply, but she was dumbstruck, her breathing shallow and her heart ripping out of her chest. After a few seconds, he gave her a strange look before walking past her and continuing with his conversation. CJ and Sam were coming off the bus then and they said hello to her, but she found that it was taking every ounce of energy she had to not fall to the ground in a heap, and therefore couldn’t even nod or smile back at them. 

It took her well over a minute to shake her head and remind herself that Josh and Mandy were together and therefore, had every right to be together. But the thought of them spending an evening alone together plagued her mind, and thoughts of wine and romantic dinners and making love made her sick to her stomach. And even as the governor spoke and the applause grew and, she could do nothing but picture Josh with a woman who wasn’t her.

It was after eleven before the rally had ended and they’d packed up, and she was grateful that she’d driven there that morning so she wouldn’t have to ride the bus back with everyone else. But it was once she was alone, once there was no noise and no one to disturb her that she began picturing the future. She pictured herself tying his bowtie and then sitting on a white wooden folding chair in a park in June, holding back tears and smiling insincerely as Mandy walked down the aisle. She pictured herself standing in a living room with a grand piano looking at pictures on the mantel while their infant son was being circumcised in front of their friends and their daughter Joanie clung to her father’s leg. She pictured Mandy dropping by the office for lunch and him shutting his office door so they could have privacy.

********** 

Mandy was gone when she came into the office Wednesday morning, having taken the first flight out to DC, but it didn’t fix Donna’s problem. The problem wasn’t Mandy, it couldn’t be her, because deep down, Donna didn’t really think Mandy and Josh had a prayer, not the way she treated him and the way he didn’t seem to care all that much. 

But even if she was right, even if Mandy wasn’t the one, someone else would be one day, and she pictured herself growing older and more alone as she became one of the first people he thought of everyday but the last person he’d ever think of that way. She pictured making dinner reservations for him and whoever came next, and whoever came after that, and whoever came after that. She pictured the day he came into the office and showed her a diamond ring he’d bought for someone that wasn’t her, and every time she pictured it, she pictured herself miserable and alone and heartbroken because she never found the man who made her feel even half of what he did.

Josh had spent most of the morning in meetings and then had a two hour conference call on the governor’s education plan that afternoon. Every few minutes he’d mute the phone and call her name, something that once made her heart flutter but now only made her sad, and she’d come into his office where he’d give her something to research. 

She’d nod and rush off to her desk and do the research, going back into his office a minute or two later with note cards, pink one time, blue the next, green the time after that so he could keep them straight. And he’d look up at her with raised eyebrows and a smirk before halting the conversation with statistics and case studies and his amazing way of making people see what was important and what wasn’t. And she’d stand there and watch with a proud smile on her face and heart that was breaking a little more each time.

After the conference call, Toby and Sam had sequestered themselves in his office with him for the rest of the day, leaving well after dark. After that, she and Josh had worked for a few more hours on the schedule for Friday’s trip to Iowa before driving together back to the Comfort Inn.

She was in her pajamas and glasses, watching an old movie of Lifetime a half hour later when there was a knock at the door, and she was already talking as she opened it. “Sleep Josh, at the end of the day, people sleep.” 

“What?”

Her eyes widened and she looked up. If she’d had a million guesses she wouldn’t have guessed it to be him, but there he stood in the hallway with a dozen roses and pleading eyes.

“Michael… what are you doing here?”

********** 

Thursday evening, she sat her desk staring at but not really seeing a position paper she was proofing. Michael had come the night before, and she guessed that deep down she must’ve expected that if he found out where she was and had come after her, it would cause an upheaval in her life, because she was honestly surprised that when she answered the door it hadn’t. That she hadn’t been moved or excited or confused even the slightest bit. 

She’d looked at him, standing in the hallway pleading for her to hear him out. When she allowed him in, he had then walked into her room and without attempting to make up bad excuses for his past behavior, stated his case. That he knew her, that he loved her, that he wanted to take care of her the way she’d always taken care of him. And her thoughts, her only thoughts, were that he didn’t know her well enough to know that she preferred lilies. And if after three years he didn’t know something as simple as that, how would he ever know how she needed to be loved or taken care of. 

So she’d told him no. And then she’d told him no a second and a third time as he continued making promises he’d never keep and she’d never want him to. And when he was out of promises and apologies, he told her he had a room on the second floor and would be staying for a few days, in case she changed her mind.

She finally finished the position paper and got up to take it into Josh. When she got to his doorway, she looked at him sitting at his desk, the only light in the room coming from the small lamp on his desk, his sleeves rolled up and his hair askew. He was beautiful, studying a book to his left and pausing occasionally to write something on a legal pad to his right, and she stood there and watched him for several minutes until he looked up and caught her. 

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked with a smile.

“Just for a minute,” she said quietly. “I like to watch you work.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

She shrugged and smiled softly. “It’s like I’m watching the world get better.”

He looked away and smiled before looking back at her almost shyly. “I’m not sure I deserve your praise.”

“I am,” she whispered.

The room went silent as they watched each other. “Are you headed to the hotel?” he asked several moments later.

She shook her head. “Soon. I want to get things ready for tomorrow’s trip first.” He nodded but kept looking at her. “Is there anything specific that you need?” 

He seemed to be off in his own world, but finally shook himself out of it and stood up. “No. I’m uhh…” he looked around. “I’m sorry I can’t stay and help, I’m late for dinner with Sam.” 

She nodded. “Kay.”

He looked at her again. “Are you ok? You seem kind of…” he trailed off and as hard as it was, she smiled a bit wider. 

“I’m just tired.”

He reached out, putting one hand on her arm and rubbing it slowly. “Go back to the hotel, Donna. We can do this in the morning. I’ll bring bagels and we’ll do it together.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Maybe I’ll just stay for a few minutes.”

His eyes met hers and she worried that he could see through her. Finally he nodded. “Be careful going back to the hotel; park under a light.”

She closed her eyes briefly, his sweet, brotherly words shredding the last bit of her broken heart, and as she bit her lip and nodded, she made her decision. “I will.”

He smiled at her and walked to the doorway before turning around and saying her name softly.

“Yes?” she asked as she pretended to look through boxes so she wouldn’t have to see his face again.

“Thank you.”

And just like that, her head was lifting anyway, her eyes catching on his warm, brown ones. “For what?”

“For watching me work.”

She couldn’t speak, knew not one word would come out as anything more than a choked sob, so she nodded and he nodded back, smiling wider at her, his dimples barely coming out as if telling her goodbye, and she frantically studied his face, memorizing every possible detail until he turned and was gone.

She was trembling and sobbing by the time she made it to his desk and dialed the number, asking for his room with a quivering voice. “Donna?” he asked as he picked up the phone.

“If I say yes, can we leave tonight?”


	6. Stumbling into Life

Her parents sounded surprised when she called at almost a quarter after eleven on Friday night and told them she was two blocks from home, but the surprise in their voices didn’t compare to the shock on their faces when they opened the door and Michael walked in behind her carrying her two suitcases and garment bag. She put on her best fake smile and announced that they were trying again, avoiding her mother’s eyes and trying not to flinch when Michael put his arm around her waist, holding her tighter yet somehow less securely than Josh had with a simple hand on her back.

Neither her mother nor her father did anything to hide the fact that they didn’t approve of Michael’s presence, but they didn’t kick either of them out, and for that she was grateful. Her father was the first to hug her, pulling her tightly to his chest and whispering, “Welcome home,” into her ear. She hugged her mother briefly, pulling away quickly and claiming she was tired and needed to unpack, then turned to Michael who, treading carefully, told her he’d call her the next day and take her to lunch. She nodded and closed her eyes when he kissed her cheek so she wouldn’t have to see his face, then closed the door behind him and took a deep breath before turning around to face her parents again. There was a long, awkward pause until her father grabbed her suitcases and hauled them upstairs towards her room.

“It’s good to be home,” Donna said nervously, her eyes skimming over her mother’s face and moving down to the floor as she picked up the garment bag and followed her dad to her room. Her mother watched from the bottom of the stairs, still having said nothing since she’d walked in.

She stopped at the door to her room, watching her father look for someplace to put her suite cases. “I’ll just…” he put them in a corner near her closet and she nodded.

“That’s fine, thanks,” she said, walking further inside and taking off her shoes.

He smiled hesitantly at her. “Your uh… aunt and uncle were here last weekend, but I think your mom changed the sheets.”

“Ok.”

“And…” he glanced over her shoulder towards the door. “Marcia’s maternity leave starts in a week, if you want to come assist your old man while she’s away. I’m sure it’s not as exciting as…”

“That sounds great. Thanks Dad.”

He nodded at her before walking up to her and kissing her forehead. “It’s getting late, why don’t you get some sleep?”

“Kay.” She turned to watch him leave, her mother making room for him in the doorway where she stood. He leaned into her as he passed her, kissing her cheek and telling her goodnight as his fingers skimmed her chin, and Donna hated that it hurt to see. 

Neither said anything until they heard her parent’s bedroom door close and then for the first time they made eye contact and Donna flinched, looking quickly away. “It was a long drive,” she said in an overly cheery voice as she pulled a suitcase over and up onto the bed, unzipping it. “We started last night but were too tired to get very far, so we ended up driving fourteen hours today. I’d kill for a hot bath and some flannel pajamas.”

She pulled out her toiletries and a pair of flannel pajamas, still not looking at her mother, still filling space with pointless words. “It’ll be nice to sleep in a bed that I know,” she said, pulling off her shirt and pulling the pajama top over her head. “I don’t think there’s a single hotel on the eastern side of the country with a decent …”

“Did someone hurt you?” 

Her mother’s voice was quiet and controlled and she froze in place, her hands on the button of her jeans. She kept her eyes on the bed, tears stinging her eyes. 

“Because I know you’re not putting your relationship with Michael back together.” She heard movement and her mother’s voice was closer yet quieter. “So I’m asking you Donna, if someone hurt you?”

She didn’t say anything, couldn’t, and the silence grew thick for several seconds until she dropped to the bed and shook her head slowly from side to side.

“No one… Josh… he didn’t do anything…” 

Donna turned her head, tears soaking her cheeks, her eyes boring into her mother’s. “Josh would never hurt me,” she said slowly with a quiet strength.

The room went quiet again while her mother sat down next to her and studied her for what felt like a lifetime. She finally nodded, her face relaxing, and cupped Donna’s cheek in her hand, her thumb wiping away tears. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready?” she whispered.

Placing her hand over her mother’s, she closed her eyes and nodded, and her mom gently pulled her into a hug and whispered to her, telling her she’d be ok, that she was home now, rubbing her back softly and letting Donna cling to her as her tears continued falling.

********** 

She cried at least once each day for the first thirty-three days, usually late at night in bed where the darkness and silence took away any distractions from the ache in her heart. When memories came flooding back and she could almost smell his aftershave and hear his laugh. She wondered what it meant that she actually felt a little better when she devoted a few minutes of her day to cry for him. 

Her mom hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked her again what happened to make her leave the campaign, and she still hadn’t told her. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her, she just felt stupid and naïve and foolish, and putting voice to those feelings would only serve to humiliate her, so she kept them inside, not even whispering them when she was alone and crying. And some nights her mom would hear her, and she’d come into her room and sit on the edge of the bed, softly pushing hair behind her ear with one hand while holding her hand with the other, and it was in those times that she didn’t need to say anything, that her mom knew just what to do anyway.

No one had been surprised when she broke up with Michael again on day thirteen, but maybe they’d just been too worried about the concussion and sprained ankle to wonder why he wasn’t around anymore. He called a few times after that but she suspected it to be out of obligation; she was sure he’d gotten the message when she told him in a quiet unwavering voice that he’d never be the man she needed him to be and they shouldn’t keep pretending he could be. Everyone was surprised however, when he agreed to pay her tuition, although no one more than her surprise at even having the audacity to ask, and she thought maybe that meant she was getting stronger. 

And maybe she was, because on the thirty-fourth day she didn’t cry. She worked late that night, helping her father prepare for a presentation to a new client, not leaving the office until a few minutes after ten and riding home with him since she hadn’t received the insurance money for her totaled car yet. They’d gotten home just in time for Letterman and afterwards she’d barely crawled into bed before falling into a deep sleep.

She was at work the next afternoon before she even realized it, that she’d gone an entire day without hurting that deeply, and she wondered if it meant she’d soon stop walking around like a zombie, content to simply exist instead of live. If it meant the soft worried looks her mother gave her and the kid gloves her father used with her would end soon. And it was sad in a way, she thought, because wasn’t he worth more than a month of tears? 

But then the next night, the local news covered Governor Bartlet’s speech after winning the Illinois primary and she cried herself to sleep picturing him laughing and cheering, and not even noticing that she wasn’t there. 

********** 

It was hot; the first really hot day they’d had, and it was clear to everyone that the small classroom wasn’t equipped for it. She felt bad for not paying better attention, especially with finals a week away, but the sight of paper fans fluttering combined with the soft rattle of the air conditioner on its last leg had her mind wandering to anything but what the professor was saying.

She shook her head and tried again to focus, but the sweat forming on his bald head dripping down behind his ear was too much to take, so she looked out the closed window at a young guy chaining his bike up to a bike rack by the wheel. She rolled her eyes; it’d be gone within the hour.

Finally, and hour and fifteen minutes into the two-hour class, the professor dismissed them, as unable to concentrate as the fifteen students in the small summer class. She stood up, shoving her tape recorder and what few notes she’d managed to take into her attaché case and wondering what to do to kill time before her next class in an hour. Smiling politely at the few students in the class she knew, she left and went directly to the restroom, splashing cool water on her face and neck, trying to get the ick off.

She looked at herself in the mirror and winced. She’d gotten so thin over the last four months. The bones in her cheeks stood out and almost made her eyes look sunken in. It was like looking at a much older woman. She wiped at dark circles under her eyes, finally reaching inside her purse for her compact. She put it on thickly, embarrassed that she’d let herself get this way. And her mom had noticed too, she was sure of it. Recently, she’d been offering Donna food at every turn, making her favorites for dinner, watching her with worried looks again. 

She left the restroom and made her way through the building and out the doors where the ninety degree temperature actually felt a little better than being indoors, especially with the gentle breeze. She started walking towards the building of her next class, hoping the air was working better there, and passed the bike rack chuckling, nothing but a tire chained to it.

“Ms. Moss,” she heard from behind her, and turned to face her professor, sweat still apparent on his head.

“Professor,” she said politely. 

“A little warm out,” the man as said as he closed the distance between them.

She smiled; it wasn’t a real smile, but she doubted more than a few knew her well enough to know the difference. “I enjoy your class, Sir, but I must admit I was happy to be dismissed early today.”

He laughed lightly at her. “I have the first draft of your final paper, if you’d like the comments.”

Her eyes perked up a bit and she nodded. She’d planned on spending the entire weekend finishing it up and studying for finals. “Yes, please.”

He stooped down, pulling papers out of his briefcase. “It’s coming along quite nicely,” he said, still searching. “I was concerned, seeing as how it’s been several years since you’ve taken these classes, but you seem to be up to speed.” He stood up and handed the paper to her. She took it from him and started leafing through the ten pages.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, glancing at notes written in red several pages in.

“It’s quite a liberal view you’ve adopted.”

This caught her attention and she looked up at him. “Yes. You said our actual view wouldn’t be judged so long as we could validate it?”

He smiled and nodded. “It’s fine, Miss Moss. It just stood out. Most of the others took a more moderate approach. May I ask,” he said, pausing for her acknowledgement, “What made you decide to tackle the foster care system?”

She tensed her jaw. “Foster care is state-run. It’s not a system, it’s 50 systems and all 50 are failing. Don’t you think it needs to be tackled?” 

He quirked an eyebrow and nodded at her. “I do, but less money for families, more placement freedom for social workers, money for group homes, IEP’s, scholarships… you’re proposing an expensive program, Ms. Moss.”

She glanced away for a second, the hint of a real smile tugging at her lips. ‘They need to be our top priority. Pre-school through college. Our top priority.’ “A politician once told me that kids need to be our top priority. You don’t think he meant these specific kids?”

He smiled and nodded at that. “Well Ms. Moss, I can’t say as I agree with your conclusions completely, but you’ve proven them rather well. Tighten it up a bit and I’d say it’s a well-done paper.”

She nodded, opening her attaché case and putting it inside. “Thank you Professor.” Glancing at her watch, she looked back up at him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late for my next class and I need all the help I can get with China in World Politics.”

He chuckled. “Sounds exciting. I’ll see you on Thursday, Ms. Moss.”

********** 

She ran inside, slamming the door behind her and running up the steps two and three at a time. “Am I missing it?” she yelled on the way.

“They haven’t introduced him yet,” her mom shouted back. “Any minute now!”

“Coming!” she shouted from her room, pulling off a high heel with one hand and unbuttoning her dress shirt with the other. Once her shoes were off, she walked across the room towards her dresser as she unzipped her gray skirt, letting it fall to the floor, then pulled shorts and a t-shirt out of her third drawer and slipped them on quickly. 

It had actually worked out well, working with her father. Marcia had come back to work part time after her maternity leave and she and Donna split the job, which worked well for Donna’s school schedule. And between her full class load and studying, twenty hours a week was about all she could handle. Her parents were great, insisting she live with them and refusing to take rent money. It seemed no matter how many times she detoured her life, they were always there to help her find her way back. 

She practically ran into her bathroom, taking out her contacts and throwing her hair into a half-bun, half-pony tail before grabbing her glasses and running back down the stairs. Her mother was already in the living room, the Democratic Convention on quietly, holding a pad of paper and a pen. Donna walked into the room and paused when she noticed the purple note-cards from February’s debate on the end table next to her mother.

Her mom looked over and saw her staring down at the cards. “So we can see if he’s changed anything since the debate.”

Donna nodded dumbly, still looking down at the cards. She closed her eyes and remembered sitting in the kitchen with her mom, mesmerized by those purple index cards. Spending the next day packing what she thought she’d need for a few months of envelope stuffing, leaving a voicemail for her boss at McCalister and Combs that she wouldn’t be back in, standing in the snow that Monday morning before dawn, hugging her mom while her father loaded her suitcases and a garment bag into her trunk, walking into the campaign headquarters Tuesday afternoon and trying to steal a bumper sticker, answering a ringing phone … After all of it, the hard work, the lack of sleep, the tears… she didn’t regret it for an instant. More times than not, she wondered what it would be like to go back. 

“If you want something to eat you should get it now. The governor’s on after Senator Enlow.”

The name pulled her out of her reverie and she looked up at the screen. “Windbag,” she said, walking off towards the kitchen.

Her mom chuckled. “How do you know?”

“I met him,” she half-yelled through the condo, opening the refrigerator door and looking around for something that sounded appetizing before deciding on just a can of diet coke. “He’s a senator from Illinois. He was at the fundraiser I organized in Chicago. He’s big into space exploration.” She walked back into the living room pouring the can into a glass. Her mother was staring at her, amused. “Trust me, you don’t want to get stuck talking to him.”

“You met him?” her mother asked laughing, gesturing to the television as if it were a big deal.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “The mayor of Chicago’s thinking of running against him in the midterms.”

Her mom’s eyes widened and smile grew. “How do you know that?” 

Donna plopped down onto the couch. “One of his aides told me while he was hitting on me so he could get a meeting with Josh.”

“Hitting on you to get a meeting? How cliché, tell me it didn’t work.”

Holding the glass of diet coke between her two hands, she looked down into it and almost smiled. ‘For future reference, men who look at you like that don’t get meetings with me.’ “It didn’t work.” 

“Good for you.”

She nodded, not correcting her mom that it was actually Josh who refused to meet with the guy. Some things were better left unsaid, she reasoned. Governor Bartlet was introduced soon after, where he officially accepted the party’s nomination for the candidacy and spoke of his platform and vision for the future of the United States. He introduced John Hoynes as his running-mate and she watched as they stood in the center of the stage with hands clasped together over their heads, wondering what Josh thought about the pairing.

There were limited commercial interruptions, but when the governor finished speaking an hour later, there was one and her mom stood up. “How about I make you a sandwich?”

Donna tore her eyes from the television. “Hmm? I’m not really hungry.”

“We’ve talked about this. I’m making you a turkey sandwich,” she said, walking towards the kitchen. “And Pamela called. She hasn’t heard from you about the cookout this weekend.”

It had been the first week of the second summer session when her mom had walked in on her dressing, her eyes widening in fear at the sight of Donna’s ribs and pelvic bone easily visible underneath her skin. That was the day she sat her down and told her she wasn’t about to watch her only daughter starve to death right in front of her eyes. Since then, Donna had been putting forth an effort to eat at least twice a day, and her mom had been watching her like a prison guard to make sure she did. 

She got up and followed her mom into the kitchen. “I actually ate lunch today. And I’m not going to the party.”

Her mom had her head stuck in the refrigerator and emerged several seconds later with turkey, muenster cheese, a tomato, some lettuce and a jar of mayonnaise. “That was lunch. Now it’s dinner time. And of course you’re going. You always go. It’s the Bennett’s Labor Day party.”

She sighed. The last thing she felt like doing was going to a party, pretending to be social while all her neighbors asked about Michael. “I just started classes; I need to get a jump on studying.”

“Donnatella,” her mom said, spreading mayonnaise on two pieces of bread and not noticing Donna flinch at the use of her full name. “It’s Labor Day weekend. Everyone on the block goes. And there’s apparently going to be someone there she wants you to meet,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not interested in being fixed up by my sixty year-old neighbor,” Donna snapped back quickly. 

Her mom seemed startled and paused for several seconds as the room went silent. Then she went back to making the sandwich without another word before turning slowly and looking up at her with questioning eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Her mom only nodded. “I am. I’m sorry. I just… I want to concentrate on me for a while. I want to finish school and not worry about guys. Is that ok? To just… take a break?”

Her mom watched her for a few seconds before smiling softly at her and handing her a saucer holding the sandwich. She put her hand on Donna’s cheek. “That’s fine, I’m all for you concentrating on you.” Donna smiled at her and they stood like that for a few seconds. “Now eat.”

“Fine,” she said in mock exasperation. “I’ll eat.”

They went back into the living room and sat down as a Peter Jennings commented on what they’d seen so far that night. His comments were mostly complimentary and Donna took a bite of her sandwich as she and her mom listened.

“…convention and John Hoynes, the once presumed democratic presidential candidate and now Josiah Bartlet’s running mate, is about to address the delegation. The Bartlet camp has been tight-lipped about this match since press began speculating on it almost two weeks ago when the senator dropped out of the race for the nomination. Tonight we have Joshua Lyman with us, a senior advisor for Governor Bartlet and one-time advisor for Senator Hoynes, to discuss this match and what it means for the campaign and the voters.”

She’d only been paying half attention to the commentary while eating her sandwich, but his name caught her attention and she found herself frozen staring at the television screen as it split in half and Josh appeared on the right half with a microphone clipped to his shirt. “Thanks for joining us tonight, Josh.” 

“My pleasure Peter.” Her breath caught in her throat as she sat stunned. As she looked at brown eyes she’d only pictured for the last five and a half months and heard a voice she thought she remembered correctly but had forgotten had the slightest bit of husk to it.

“Is that your Josh, Donna?” She vaguely heard her mom say something but everything other than Josh was fading quickly into the background.

“First off, congratulations on the nominee.”

“Thanks Peter, the governor’s thrilled.” His dimples came out then and she found herself smiling back at him even as the first tear spilled out over her eyelid and gently rolled down her cheek. Those she had remembered perfectly. Oh, how he’d used those to his advantage.

“Josh, you’ve worked with both the senator and the governor. Can you tell us why the governor chose Senator Hoynes to be his running mate and what you’d like him to bring to the ticket?” Tears started falling steadily but quietly then, a slow, hard, ache instead of shaking and sobbing, and she figured it was because she wasn’t devastated or crushed, she was just… broken. 

God she missed him. It was the only thought she seemed to be able to focus on as she pushed everything except him out of her mind. That she missed his voice and his smile and his teasing her and his eyes. His warm, inviting eyes. That she missed working with him and talking with him and watching him with the others. That she’d never taken a breath before meeting him and hadn’t taken another since leaving. “Senator Hoynes is a respected member of the senate. He has an impeccable voting record; he’s consistent and honest in his voting practices, he’s loyal to his constituents in Texas, he’s a fine leader and he’ll add another viewpoint to the ticket. We’re all excited to have him on board.”

She brought her hand up to her mouth, her lips trembling as her fingertips rested on them. She could hear him speaking, but could only hear his voice, not the actual words he was saying and she hoped her mom was taping this. She thought her mom might have said her name again, but she couldn’t waste a second to look away from the screen and acknowledge her. All she could do was watch him while tears continued falling uninhibited down her face. 

There was a blur of something passing between her and the television and then she felt the couch dip down. “Donna,” her mom said quietly. “Should I turn this off?”

“No!” she pleaded with a shaky voice. “No, please. Please don’t.”

“What role does him being from Texas play in the decision?” Peter Jennings said from the television, bringing her focus back to the television.

“Donna,” her mother said softly.

“Shh…” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Obviously the senator’s popular in the south, winning the majority of those primary races. But it’s less about trying to secure those votes and more about trying to relate better to those voters.”

“Honey, you’re…” 

“Shh…” she said again, cutting her off.

And then there was a hand holding hers, but it wasn’t his hand. It would never be his. He’d only touched her hand a few times, once when she was so exhausted that he took her suitcase from her and twice when they’d danced. And they’d never dance again and he’d never touch her hand again and she’d made a mistake. She never should’ve left him.

“We’re almost out of time. Can you tell us what you personally are excited about seeing from these two together?”

Her mom whispered her name again, but she might as well have been miles away, because Donna heard nothing, saw nothing, but him. She knew for certain he’d never looked as good to her as he did right then. He was absolutely beautiful sitting there looking exhausted and wrinkled and over-worked. He wasn’t running his fingers through his hair, but she could tell by looking at him that he had been and would be again soon, and she wished she could be there to see it. 

“They’ve spent the last week comparing and contrasting their education plans, combining the best parts of both of them into a comprehensive plan that I think is going to be incredible.”

“Alright. We’ll look forward to that. Thanks for joining us Josh, and good luck with the upcoming campaign.”

“Thanks Peter.” The split screen ended then and he was suddenly gone, as if he’d never been there in the first place. And it was then that her breathing became shallow and her shoulders started shaking. Her mom was stroking her hand and shushing her, and once Peter Jennings had wrapped up the segment and cut back to the convention the television went black and she assumed her mother turned it off.

They sat there for a few minutes until the crying had slowed down, her head on her mother’s shoulder and her mom stroking her hand. When she was calmer, her mom put a pillow in her lap and patted it lightly. “Come here,” she whispered.

Donna looked up at her and tried to smile, then lay down on the couch, her head on the pillow in her mom’s lap, and her mom started stroking her hair while she tried taking deep, steady breaths. 

It was several minutes before her either of them said anything else. “This is why you left?”

“Yes,” Donna whispered, facing the black screen of the television and feeling numb.

“You’re sure he didn’t feel the same way?” she whispered back.

Donna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘It looked like something my sister used to do.’ “Yeah.”

“You could have told me.”

“I felt stupid.”

Her mom pushed some hair behind her ears. “Love isn’t stupid. It’s a gift.”

She nodded, tears falling again, and wiped at her face. “I th… thought I was getting better.”

“You are. You’re eating again, you’re sleeping better, you’re crying a lot less. If we could just get you smiling and doing something other than work and study, we’d be all set.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna be on your case a little bit more about that, now that I know what the problem is.”

Donna sat up, wiping her eyes with a tissue from the end table and giving her mom a tiny smile. “You’re gonna make me go to that Labor Day party this weekend, aren’t you?”

Her mom smiled back. “I’m going to strongly suggest it, yes.” She groaned and her mom laughed. “But I’m not going to let Pamela Bennett fix you up.”

“Promise?”

“Honey,” her mom said, patting her knee. “No one should have to get fixed up by a sixty year-old woman.”


	7. Stumbling into Life

She didn’t see him again until election night. She’d gotten up early that morning so she could vote before her nine o’clock class, wearing the Bartlet for America t-shirt she’d borrowed from him and never returned over a long sleeve white turtleneck that was far more appropriate for Wisconsin Novembers. Tuesday’s were her long day; a morning class followed by six hours at the office and then two more classes in the evening, and by the time she’d gotten home, the west coast voting sites were closed and states on the east coast were already declaring winners.

It was almost three a.m. before they called it. As per usual, it all came down to Florida, and her parents had given up and gone to bed around midnight, her mom looking at her as if asking a question. She smiled slightly, nodding that yes, she’d be ok, and stayed up the last three hours on her own, waiting...

And then President-elect Bartlet was walking out onto a stage in a hotel in New Hampshire that had blue and white balloons hanging from the ceiling. People were screaming and waving signs and she found herself caught up in the excitement, goose bumps forming on her arms and a huge grin on her face. She’d been a part of that for a short while. So often when she thought of those six and a half weeks, she thought only of Josh, but this was the man for whom she’d actually left home, and although they’d only met twice, she’d always be grateful to him.

He started speaking, his wife standing just behind him next to their three daughters, one son-in-law, and two grandchildren, and she listened proudly as he talked of a greater America, of stronger security, better healthcare, and improved education. And as she sat there listening, she believed without a doubt that he’d accomplish it all; he did have Josh.

Then he talked about the hard work of the people who got him there as the camera pulled out and showed more of the stage. And there he was, standing between Sam Seaborn and CJ Cregg, with rolled up sleeves and wild hair, clapping and smiling and even putting his fingers in his mouth at one point and whistling. 

And it could’ve been because she was expecting to see him, was looking for him even, but she preferred to think that the reason she didn’t cry was because she was healing, because she was stronger and happier than she’d been a few months earlier when the democratic convention had aired. But either way, instead of tears, she found herself smiling as she sat on the floor close to the television set hugging her knees, biting her lip and whispering hi, focusing only on him even as the camera panned away and he was in the very corner of her screen. And when she’d gone to bed an hour later when the coverage was finally over, she’d been melancholy, but she still hadn’t cried. Mostly, it had just been nice to see him.

********** 

“Most experts would agree that the only trustworthy polling data comes from external polling. Still, an average political campaign will spend up to 25% of its budget on internal polling, and it begs the question of why.” 

Donna glanced around the old lecture hall, thirty or so students scattered throughout, before raising her hand.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “And someone takes the bait. Your name, miss?”

She liked this professor, perhaps more than any professor she’d had in the year she’d been back in school. He was witty and charming and reminded her of her father. “Donna Moss.”

“Ok Ms. Moss,” he said gesturing to her. “If the only official polling numbers come from outside polling, why do politicians bother with internal polling?”

“Because they can ask the questions they need answers to,” she said confidently.

“Such as…”

“Well, for instance…” she closed her eyes briefly, trying to remember exactly what had happened, but it had been almost a year and a half and once Mandy had walked into the hotel, she’d attempted to block out all noise. “A poll comes out showing that a candidate who’s courting college students trails his opposition significantly in 18-35 year olds, thus calls a media consultant in to find out where he’s going wrong. However, an internal poll the next day shows that while the candidate is trailing in 18-35 year olds, he’s actually ahead in 18-22 year olds. The first poll, an outside poll, wasn’t asking the question they needed answered.”

“Well done,” her professor agreed, nodding. “Although, I hope their next poll asked what he was doing wrong with 23-35 year-olds.” There were a few chuckles throughout the classroom before the professor continued. “So, Ms. Moss brings up a valid point, but if internal polling is more accurate, as it was in Ms. Moss’ example, why isn’t it used as official polling numbers?” Nobody answered and he looked back at Donna. “Ms. Moss?”

She glanced down at the notes she’d taken, hoping to find something in them, and not finding it, looked back at him. “Because the questions are too detailed?” she asked more than answered. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Good try though.” He turned his attention back to the rest of the students in the lecture hall. “Would anyone like to rescue Ms. Moss?” He paused and then went on. “If an administration can form the questions in an internal poll, wouldn’t it make sense that they can word just about any question in a way to make themselves look better?”

She winced, she should’ve known that. Polling had been her thing. It wasn’t that she loved it so much as that it came second nature to her, and she needed all the help she could get in Political Communications. It was the only class she was taking for the summer, the only one she still needed that was offered in a summer session, and she was glad, as it was turning out to be unbelievably difficult. 

She continued taking notes until the professor dismissed the class with a reminder about Friday’s test, then left for the law library to study for a few hours before going into the office at noon. She loved the law library. Not only was it well air-conditioned and quiet, it had an aura to it that was hard to explain. The high ceilings and cherry wood bookshelves along with long cherry tables and burgundy leather reading chairs gave it an important feel, making her feel smarter to simply be there. She walked quietly towards the back corner, her favorite corner where few others wandered and no one would see her drinking her bottled water, and unloaded her backpack. Then she headed into the stacks, stretching to her toes and pulling out a book from the top shelf behind several other books of a completely different subject. She figured she should’ve felt bad for stashing it there, but some books weren’t allowed to leave the library and she only had four months before taking the LSAT; there really wasn’t time for remorse.

Sitting back down, she opened the LSAT prep book to the page she’d left off at the last time and started reading and taking notes. Something caught her eye a few hours in and she jotted it down on a purple index card and then placed the card on top of two others she wanted to research in greater detail. She wasn’t sure when she’d gotten in the habit of cross-referencing certain topics with Josh’s name, but she justified it. He was, she learned, the Deputy Chief of Staff at the White House. His name could easily be used in a bibliography, and she trusted his opinion on a topic more than the “experts” she’d never met. And since it had stopped hurting to see his name in print or his picture in a newspaper, she’d gotten used to at least taking his views into consideration before forming her own opinions.

“Ms. Moss?”

The quiet voice saying her name startled her and she jerked her head up with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She blinked and looked at him closer. He was fairly tall, short black hair, dark brown eyes, about her age, and she thought maybe he looked familiar, but couldn’t place him. “It’s… fine. I just…” she glanced down at her watch and then back up at him. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

He smiled and sat in the chair next to her. “We’re in Political Communications together.”

“Ahh…” she said nodding. That explained the ‘Ms. Moss.’

“You did a good job taking on Professor Ashton today.”

“Until he totally stumped me, you mean,” she said, standing up and starting to pack her backpack.

He laughed slightly and stood back up quickly. “Yeah, well he stumped me long before he stumped you.”

“It’s a tough class,” she said, concentrating on the rubber band she was putting around her index cards and already thinking of an excuse to give when he asked her out.

“Tell me about it,” he said, watching her. “I’m Adam, by the way.”

She glanced over at him and smiled politely. “Donna.”

“You don’t prefer ‘Ms. Moss’?” he asked teasingly. 

She shook her head and chuckled. He wasn’t the most subtle of guys hitting on her, but he wasn’t the worst at it either. “Hardly.” 

“So Donna, when are you taking the LSAT?” he asked, picking up the book she’d been studying.

She zipped the backpack and turned towards him. “November, you?”

He grinned at her. It was a moderately cute grin, as cute as dimple-less grins could be, she figured. “What makes you think I’m taking the LSAT?”

“The fact that you’re in the law library,” she said, smiling back as she took the book and headed into the stacks with it. He followed, watching as she reached back up to the top row and slid it back into its hiding place. 

“Ah hah,” he said in mock indignation. “I see what’s happening here.”

She shrugged and headed back to her backpack and purse. “It’s out of print and the new guides aren’t as thorough.”

He hopped up onto the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “I could give you up, you know. Turn you in.”

“For the large reward?” she asked with a smirk before picking up her backpack and heading towards the front of the building.

He grabbed his things and hastily followed. “You could probably convince me to keep your secret over lunch or…”

“I’m late for work,” she said cutting him off, and at least this time it was the truth. “I was supposed to be there a half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” he said dejectedly before perking back up. “What about tomorrow night. I’m in a study group. We’re getting together to study for the test.”

“I can’t,” she said quickly, one of her typical excuses on the tip of her tongue.

“Really, Donna. You should come. It’s not some sort of…” he trailed off and gestured between them. “We actually study.” 

She shook her head. “I have to…” but then she stopped and looked back at him. She didn’t have anything to do the next night except study, and for the first time in a year and a half, she didn’t want to make up excuses. “Actually, tomorrow might work well.”

********** 

They walked out of the airport and her mom immediately buttoned her coat to fight off the cold January air while Donna looked around with a smile on her face, barely even registering the temperature. She nodded slightly to herself; this felt right. Her mom hailed a cab and the driver got out to put their suitcases in the trunk wearing a Redskin’s jersey over a white turtle neck and worn-in jeans. Yes, it felt right. She smiled at him and told him the name of the hotel before finally getting inside.

They both took in as much as possible as the driver took them to the Marriott in Georgetown, and as she watched out one window as they passed the entrance to Arlington cemetery, her mom squealed a little bit, catching just a glimpse of the Lincoln Monument out of her own. Donna looked over at her and laughed, positive her mom was as excited about this trip as she was.

They checked into their hotel and unpacked enough to hang up Donna’s suits before visiting the concierge for a metro map and recommendations for dinner. It wasn’t quite three, so they walked across the street to the Georgetown University campus, Donna’s face still holding the smile that began at the airport. She could literally feel her heart beating just being there; this was it, she thought to herself. This was home. Would be. This was where everything would start.

They found the law library and some graduate housing before continuing their walk towards a metro station and stopping for coffee in a small shop several blocks off campus called The Baked and Wired. She stepped inside and the smile widened. Her first DC coffee shop. Her mom teased her and they had hot chocolate before venturing back into the cold.

They took the metro to Dupont Circle, and she decided she loved it. She loved being in a city that was busy enough for a subway. She loved that she could get anywhere she needed to go without driving. And as cold as it was, she loved the atmosphere; the circle with a statue in the center and traffic signs that seemed almost foreign, the boutiques and shops that sold the outrageous, the posh restaurants and twenty and thirty something’s walking with purpose and an aura of self importance. They walked for a while before choosing one of the small restaurants with men and women dressed in business attire and drinking martinis as if they were better than everyone else in the building. It was completely different than Ruby Tuesday’s and Chili’s, and she made a mental note to look into what rent might cost in the area.

“So,” her mom said as the snobby waitress brought her credit card back to the table. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Donna’s near permanent smile widened and she looked out the window at the small street they were on. It was a quick trip. Four days, yes, but she had interviews at GW, Georgetown, American, and the University of Maryland, as well as job interviews with the Children’s Right’s Council and the National Children's Advocacy Consortium. “I’ll do anything,” she said cheerfully. “You name it.”

Her mom shook her head and chuckled at her. “Well you know me, I’ll be happy as long as I get to visit Lincoln.”

‘President Lincoln, the greatest of all presidents, American or otherwise,’ her mother used to say. Donna had caught on to her adoration at an early age, choosing him as the subject for countless school reports and early political discussions. “Well then,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go see Lincoln.”

They took the metro from Dupont Circle to a station a few blocks from the Mall, mildly surprised to see so many people still there walking between the Washington and Lincoln Monuments. It was dark by then, but there were lights in the reflecting pool, others shining up from the ground onto the Washington Monument, as still more inside the Lincoln Monument shining out onto the steps and she tilted her head and smiled. ‘It’s best at night. It’s all lit up. It’s… neat.’ 

They went past the Washington Monument and to the Vietnam Memorial, purchasing a flower from a nearby vendor and looking up her dad’s step brother’s name, finding it on panel 42 and placing the flower among pictures and poems and other flowers scattered across the long, sad wall. Then they went to the Lincoln memorial and she listened as her mother told her again why he was the greatest president ever. And as they sat on the steps of monument, tucked into their coats and scarves, her mom snuggled in closer to her and asked again if she was sure this was where she wanted to attend law school. 

“I’m gonna make a difference for children, Mom,” Donna said quietly, pointing straight ahead at the Capitol in the background. “I’m going to make them make a difference for children.” 

The next morning, she let her mom sleep in and left for her interview with the dean of the GW law school. Georgetown was her first choice, but she was keeping her options open. The most important thing was getting into a school in or near DC so she could start getting into the political world. The interview went smoothly, her 3.75 GPA and 171 LSAT score pretty much guaranteeing her acceptance anywhere except for maybe Yale and Harvard, but she’d need at least a partial scholarship or she’d have to look seriously at the University of Maryland, which was fifteen thousand dollars cheaper a year. Michael had agreed to continue paying her tuition but it wasn’t her goal to bankrupt him.

She took the metro back to the hotel after her interview and filled her mom in on everything she’d discussed with the interview panel, glad she’d saved Georgetown for last so she’d have three other schools to practice on first. After a quick lunch, they took a cab downtown and her mom waited in the lobby while Donna took the elevator to the ninth floor where the Children’s Rights Council was located.

An hour and a half later, she finally made it back down to the lobby with a huge smile on her face, fighting the urge to spin like a five year-old with her arms stretched out. Her mom saw the look on her face and jumped up, walking quickly to her. “Well?”

They walked towards the entrance, finally stepping outside where Donna pumped her fists in the air and shouted, “Yes!” before containing herself quickly and heading down the sidewalk.

“I gather it went well.”

“Very well. They offered me a job,” she said in a near squeal.

“On the spot?”

“Well, they’ve had my resume for a month. But yeah, on the spot,” she said grinning.

They stopped at a corner and waited with several other people for the crosswalk. “Do they know about law school?”

She nodded. “Yes, and they’re willing to pay for one class a semester if I agree to move to the legislation department once I finish, which is where I want to be anyway. For now I’ll be in programs and research and as long as I work twenty hours a week, I can pretty much set my own schedule.”

Her mom’s smile grew to match hers and she leaned over and nudged Donna, telling her quietly how proud of her she was. 

They crossed the street and turned another corner, looking for the redline metro to take them to the Smithsonian for the rest of the day when Donna sucked in a quick breath and stopped suddenly. “Is that…”

Her mom followed her gaze down a small side street between two buildings and off in the distance, saw the White House. “It appears so.” She was quiet for several seconds before hesitantly asking, “Do you want to go over there?” 

Donna stared at it sitting there in the midst of the city, surprised she’d given so little thought to it or the people in it this entire trip. And she smiled, sure for the first time that moving there, going to law school there, was all about her. 

She looked over at her mom and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go look at it.” 

Her mom looked at her for a few seconds and then nodded and they walked down the small street, across a larger one, through a park, and then across Pennsylvania Avenue until they were standing in front of the White House. Neither spoke for a few minutes, then her mom turned to her. “What are you thinking?”

“It was a great job,” she said quietly. “He taught me so much.”

“I know,” her mom said smiling. “You used to call so excited about it, you’d have your father and me cracking up. And when you came home, even when you were hurting so badly, you were so determined.”

She shrugged a little, closing her eyes tightly and whispering, “The two of you showed me what I wanted to be.”

Her mom took a step closer to her, leaning in and speaking quietly. “You’re almost there, you know. You just got offered a job by the most respected child advocacy group in the country.”

She smiled widely and looked back at the building. ’They need to be our top priority. Pre-school through college. Our top priority.’ As much as she grew, as strong as she got, she never stopped hearing him say those words.

“What’s that smile for?”

She glanced over at her mom then looked back towards the White House. “I think he’d be proud of me. If he… knew me now.”

“I’m sure he would be,” her mom said with a small nod. “But I’m more concerned with you being proud of yourself.”

She was still for several seconds before turning around so her back was to the White House. “I am,” she said smiling. “I’m also starving. Let’s find one of those hotdog vendors.”

********** 

The acceptance letters started arriving within a few weeks and a scholarship offer from Georgetown came on the first warm day they had that March. She’d come home from her first and last date with Steven, the son of a client of her father’s, and found the letter sitting on the table in the foyer with a post-it note on it that read, ‘If this is what I think it is, call me on my cell immediately. Mom.’ 

After that, life was a whirlwind. She was taking sixteen credit hours, working at her father’s office, apartment hunting, and slowly but surely starting to pack, her job at the Children’s Rights Council starting only one week after graduation. By the second week of May, everything she owned was packed except her clothes and she was frantically trying to finish up two huge papers while studying for her four finals, which is why she didn’t answer when her dad called her name from the living room.

It was after midnight and she was hoping to finish proofing her fifteen page paper for Race and Gender in Education before calling it a night and going to sleep. She only had two pages left, and figured she’d just see what her dad wanted in ten minutes when she was finished. But he called her name again, his voice closer that time, and then Donna’s door opened. “Donna,” he said, crossing the room to her television.

“Yeah,” she said distractedly. Her dad turned on the television and Donna sighed and hung her head. “Dad, I just have two pages left.”

“I thought you’d want to see this. There was an assassination attempt on the President.” 

She turned her head quickly, standing up and walking to the small television in her room. “When?” she asked, focusing on CNN.

“I don’t know, about an hour or so ago I think. I turned off my movie and it was on all the channels.” A picture of Josh flashed on the screen then, pulling Donna’s attention from her father.

“Why are they…” her voice trailed off as she stared at his picture, her stomach suddenly lurching. She heard words like ‘emergency room,’ ‘surgery’ and ‘pulmonary artery,’ but couldn’t quite focus on what was being said over the sound of her breathing.

She felt something touch her hand and she jerked, still looking at the screen. “Donna...”

And then the words flashed across the screen in white letters. ‘President Bartlet and Deputy Chief of Staff, Josh Lyman, shot in Rosslyn, VA.’ 

“Sweetheart, are you ok?”

“…expected to be fine; he was awake and alert before going into surgery. Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman, however, is in critical condition and is undergoing extensive surgery at George Washington Hospital to repair a collapsed lung and remove a bullet that’s lodged in his thoracic region.” 

She continued staring at the television, her breathing harsh and shallow and a ringing in her ears. Standing up, her knees immediately buckled and her father caught her and sat her back down on her bed. “Donna?”

“Josh…” came out as nothing more than a breath.

“…shot in the chest.”

“Josh, he’s the one you worked with, right?”

“…next twelve to fourteen hours.”

She was nodding slightly, although if asked she couldn’t have said how. Things were happening too fast, too chaotic; there were too many voices and she was finding it hard to concentrate. “I gotta…” She closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow down. She tried to stand again but she was dizzy, almost hyperventilating, and fell right back down.

“Honey, let me get you some water, ok?” She felt the bed move as he stood up and walked into the bathroom.

“…are sketchy at this time, but doctors will be briefing the press within the hour.”

She told herself to take deep breaths so she could focus. She didn’t have much time, she had to calm down. Her father came back and put a cup in front of her face and instinctively she took it and swallowed a small amount. She looked up at him then, his face a mixture of confusion and worry. 

She took another sip and handed him the cup, taking a few more deep breaths and standing up to look around her room. Slipping into autopilot, she grabbed her smallest suitcase from the corner, tossing it on her bed and unzipping it. 

“Donna?”

“…the President’s top domestic policy advisor.” 

She pushed the sound of the television out, rushing to her dresser and grabbing what underwear and socks fit into her fist, not bothering to close the drawer before dropping them into her suitcase and walking quickly into the bathroom.

“Donna, what are you doing?”

She grabbed her contact case and solution, along with whatever else fit into her arms, walking back into the bedroom and dropping it all into the suitcase. Turning to go to her closet, her father said her name again. “Can you call the airport for me?” she asked as she stepped around him and harshly pulled a few shirts and some jeans off the white plastic hangers in the closet.

“Call the… Donna, sit down.”

“No time,” she said more to herself than to him, dropping the things in her arms into the small carry-on suitcase before zipping it up. “Just… see when the next flight to DC leaves and… I’ll be on my…” 

“…aren’t releasing anything on the suspects at this time other than to say that two have been taken into custody.”

She pulled the suitcase off her bed and looked at herself in the mirror; pale face, checkered pajama bottoms, a white tank top with no bra, and her hair in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She quickly grabbed a pink sweatshirt out of the closet and pulled it on over the tank top. “Just… call me when you find out the time.”

“The time? Donna…” her father gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Where are you going?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, confused at his question and frustrated that he stopped her. Hadn’t he seen the news? There wasn’t time for this. “To Josh,” she said as though it made the most sense in the world, pulling from his grasp and walking out the bedroom door.

The suitcase made a loud thumping noise on each step as she ran down them quickly. Her purse wasn’t on the table in the foyer where she usually kept it, and she considered leaving without it before reminding herself that she’d need her license. 

She walked into the kitchen and found it sitting on the counter, her hands shaking as she picked it up and pulled her keys out of it. She walked back towards the front door, pausing slightly when she saw her mom standing next to her dad in the foyer, wearing pajamas and a robe and looking at her with a soft, understanding expression.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Mom, good.” Her voice was shaking by then too, but she didn’t have time to deal with it. “I asked dad to call the airport, but your better at that.”

“Where are you going, Donna?” she asked softly as Donna opened the closet and took out her gym shoes, putting them on but not bothering to tie them.

“DC. Josh was…” she couldn’t say the word, so she paused. “Ask Dad, he’ll explain.”

“He did, Donna,” her mom said softly. “He woke me up. They’ve probably shut down the airports in DC. There aren’t going to be any flights tonight.” 

“Then I’ll drive,” she said testily, walking back to her suitcase. “Just… call me and let me know what you find out.”

“Donna,” her father said quietly. “Come sit down for a minute.”

“I don’t have time to sit down!” she screamed, the first tears falling down her face as she turned to face him. “Why in the hell do you keep telling me to sit down? I have to go. I have to get to the hospital. Why don’t you understand that?”

Her mother stepped up to her and pulled her into a hug, but she wriggled out of it and away. “I have to go.”

“Donna,” she said sternly. “You aren’t going.”

“Yes I am,” she said, wiping harshly at her face as she walked towards the door. 

She put her hand over Donna’s on the suitcase handle. “How are you going to get into the hospital? It’ll be guarded, Donna. What are you going to say? That you used to work for him two years ago for six weeks and now you need let in to see him?”

“Yes.”

“And you think that’ll work?”

“I’ll make it work.”

“No you won’t, Donna. The President’s in that hospital. There was just an assassination attempt. The secret service will be there, you aren’t getting in.”

“I have to get it,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“I just do!” she yelled.

“Why?” her mother asked sternly.

“You know why!” she screamed, ripping the suitcase out of her mother’s grasp and walking out the door without closing it behind her. Her father started to follow but her mom reached out for him and shook her head, both of them watching as she pulled out of the driveway. 

A half hour later, she called sobbing and her mom picked her up and took her to a church that was open. They spent the rest of the night praying with others who’d gathered.


	8. Stumbling into Life

She thought she’d be ok; she really did. 

Her mother had held her together that next week in a way that she knew she’d never be able to repay, proofing papers, making sure she got to her finals, taping CNN’s updates on Josh’s recovery, packing, making arrangements for the utilities to be turned on in the apartment Donna had rented, making sure she ate and slept and showered… it took every bit of effort her mother had to get her through those seven days, she was sure of it, and she was so grateful, because she simply hadn’t had the effort to do it on her own. She couldn’t quite grasp the idea of the world continuing to turn.

She was, for the five days at least, in agonizing pain. Pain that might have been mental, but certainly felt physical. As she thought about him lying there, hooked up to tubes and drugged up, in a pain she couldn’t fathom, she couldn’t help thinking the worst, waiting to hear it on the news even; that a blood clot had formed and killed him instantly, that his heart had given out, that someone from the Virginia White Pride had snuck in and killed him. He wasn’t their target, granted, but she doubted they were too upset that they’d hit a Jew.

Then, as the news and the White House reported that he was improving, and when he’d been moved out of the ICU to a regular room on the seventh day, she wondered if it was too soon. If the nurses and doctors were taking good enough care of him. Why they were rushing him into a room that wouldn’t be monitored as closely. Were they treating him with dignity or did they show no care for what he’d been through in the midst of serving them? And who was there for him when the pain got to be too much? When he needed to shout, when he threatened to get up and leave, who talked to him and joked around with him and made the pain bearable? Were his parents there, his assistant, his girlfriend… Mandy would be horrible in that situation and although she’d never wanted him unhappy, she found that for the first time ever she was actually hoping he’d found someone else to love. Someone who would love him more than Mandy; someone who would love him like she did.

But then she’d curse herself, because she hadn’t loved him enough to be there when that happened to him. She’d always told herself that she had to leave, but the truth was that she left to preserve her own… dignity, sanity, whatever. It all boiled down to the fact that she’d chosen herself over him and she hated herself for it, because had she been there, she would’ve been walking with him, and maybe the bullet would’ve hit her instead. 

But reports kept coming in, and he seemed to be getting better in every one of them; he was antagonizing the hospital staff, he was trying to work from his room, he was looking forward to real food, and she found herself smiling as CJ Cregg made as light of it as possible. And around her, the world seemed to be moving so quickly. Her final grades were posted, her grandparents came into town for the graduation ceremony, her car needed new tires and a tune-up before she left for DC… And as she packed the last of her things Tuesday night, she once again found herself looking forward to something.

And then it was Wednesday morning. Ten days had gone by since the shooting and she was standing in the front yard, her mom handing her directions she’d printed out for her while her dad loaded what her mom had deemed as essentials into the trunk and backseat. Most of her clothes and toiletries, a phone and answering machine, her laptop, one pot, one skillet, a few old plates, a shower curtain and a 12” television. She didn’t actually own any furniture or dishes and the rest of what she did own could wait two weeks until they came out in the Tahoe. So she hugged them both and drove the fifteen hours to DC, excited about all the possibilities and the work she’d be doing and the people she’d be meeting and… she really thought she’d be ok.

So she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing at GW Hospital that Thursday morning, waiting in the lobby until visiting hours started at seven. If she was going to be ok, what was she doing wandering the halls trying to look as if she belonged there while peeking into room after room after room, becoming more frantic the longer she’d been there and not found him. If she was going to be ok, why did she stop suddenly, her heart pounding to the point that she was sure anyone on the ninth floor could hear it, when she stepped off the elevator and saw what looked like to her to be two secret service agents standing outside a room about halfway down the hallway? If she was going to be ok, why hadn’t CNN and White House reports been enough for her? 

She’d hoped the hospital rooms would have glass walls so she could just kind of walk slowly by and peek in when she found him, but that wasn’t the case, so she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she could get past the secret service, but while it was inconvenient, she couldn’t be happier that they were there protecting him. She thought that maybe if she just came clean, just walked up and told them the truth; that she loved him and had to see him and they could check her for weapons, but if they’d just crack the door open so she could see him in there, she was positive she’d learn how to breathe again. 

Another elevator dinged, pulling her out of her reverie, and she looked over, her eyes growing wide and a gasp escaping her mouth as a woman whose picture she’d seen on Josh’s desk a hundred times stepped out carrying a Styrofoam cup and a newspaper. The woman glanced up at Donna, smiling and nodding before walking past her and down the hallway, saying good morning to a nurse. Catching her breath and clamping down on the threatening vomit, Donna started following her down the hall.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Lyman?”

The older woman turned, a bit startled, and looked at her. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Donna shook her head quickly back and forth. “No ma’am. I used to work with Josh,” she said, hoping the woman wouldn’t ask for details.

She stopped walking and smiled a bit uneasily. “You did?”

“Yes ma’am, before he was in the White House.”

“When he was with the Vice-President?”

Donna bit her lip and smiled non-committally and pulled out the excuse she’d come up with on the third floor. “A friend of mine had a baby, I just thought while I was here…”

The woman raised her eyebrows and Donna was almost shocked at how similar the look was to Josh’s. “He’s not up for visitors yet,” the older woman said curtly. “There’s a very small list of people allowed to see him.”

“Oh, I wasn’t… going to visit. I was just going to pop my head in and see…” she trailed off. Stopping his mother had been a bad idea. Donna remembered her to be a kind woman, but when it came to her son, she’d become a lioness, protecting her cub from anyone who might be a danger.

“If you give me your name, I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she said politely but sending her message just the same.

Donna fumbled for a name. “Sorry, I’m… Julie,” she said, reaching her hand out. Josh’s mom shook it politely and Donna played her last card. “When he wakes up, make sure you read the sports page to him,” she said, gesturing to the paper in the woman’s hand. “The Mets won last night. That should cheer him up.” She smiled softly, dropping the woman’s hand and turning back towards the elevator.

She hit the down arrow and waited, closing her eyes and all but praying Josh’s mom would stop her. Several seconds passed before the older woman spoke again. “Sometimes it’s better to see for yourself that someone’s ok. Makes it easier to believe.”

Donna looked over at her and nodded slightly. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Believe me, I know,” she said with a sad, small smile. Donna looked at her, thinking of the daughter she’d already lost before coming so close to losing Josh and had no doubt she did indeed know. The woman smiled softly and nodded in the direction of Josh’s room. “He’s asleep.”

“That’s ok,” Donna said nodding and smiling and trying to hold back tears as they walked down the hall towards his room. 

When they got there, she introduced Donna to the Secret Servicemen as a friend of Josh’s, then opened the door and looked in on him before stepping back into the hallway and smiling towards Donna. Her stomach started fluttering in a way it hadn’t since she’d left New Hampshire and she found herself frozen in place, not moving until Mrs. Lyman gave her another small nod. Taking a deep shaky breath, she walked the final two steps up to the door and opened it just enough to see inside. And then, for the first time in more than two years, she was looking at Josh. Her hand went slowly up, covering her mouth as she watched him lying in bed, asleep, with IV’s in his left arm and lines running from a machine to the area of his chest, disappearing under the small blanket that was on top of him. His face was alarmingly pale, but the slow rise and fall of his chest reminded her that he was alive and she sighed in relief even as the first tear slipped down her cheek. She closed her eyes for the briefest second, thanking God, then opened them and studied his face. He was so beautiful, so strong, and she had to hold herself back from walking in and sitting down on the edge of the bed to run her fingers over his face and through his hair. His dimples weren’t out, but their crevices were there and she wanted so badly to see him smile at her the way he used to. He turned his head then and sighed, and it was that simple movement and quiet sound that finally convinced her he’d be ok. And if he was ok, she’d be ok. 

********** 

“Tell me how this program is different from ones that already exist.”

Donna glanced over at Liz, her partner on this project. Liz nodded at her and stayed off to the side, making, allowing, encouraging Donna to fly solo on the proposal they’d spent three months putting together. She took a deep breath and turned back to Michelle. “This program doesn’t deal with pregnant teenagers, showing them how to change diapers and telling them what to expect during the delivery. This program deals with those same women three years later when their child’s ready to start counting and putting sounds together.”

“So it’s Head Start,” Michelle deadpanned and Donna knew it was only a test. She’d sat in on these meetings before, having helped on a child abuse prevention program when she first started and then a community college aid program. But this was her first project, her first co-project, whatever. It was the first project that would have her name associated with it, the first project she’d developed from scratch. This was it; the reason they’d been paying her for the last six months. 

“No. No, it’s not Head Start. We don’t want these women, or men, to send their kids off so someone else can teach them. We want to show them how they can teach their children themselves.”

“So,” Michelle said. “I’m a nineteen year-old woman with a three year-old daughter. I work fifty hours a week at Burger King while my mother keeps her. I dropped out of high school when I found out I was pregnant and my boyfriend dumped me and chances are, I’ll never make more than $8.50 an hour. My car’s a piece of crap, my food stamps don’t stretch far enough, and if I quit my job, I could go on welfare and make thirty dollars more a month than I do right now. Why do I want to spend my one free night a week at a community center when I can get free day care by sending her to Head Start?”

“Well,” Liz said smirking. “For one thing, Head Start has a waiting list.” Donna shot her a look and tried not to smile. She and Liz had become fast friends upon Donna’s arrival in DC, teaming up on the project they’d first come up with while having one of their “brainstorming sessions.” Liz was only a year older than Donna but had been working for the Council for three years, so she’d taken Donna under her wings, introducing her to her friends, showing her the best restaurants and clubs and places to shop, even helping her, while laughing, when she called, lost somewhere in the city. 

Michelle looked over at Liz. “Yes, but I’m three from the top. Certainly they’re more qualified to teach her than I am.” She looked back to Donna. “So I’ll ask you again. Why do I want to spend my one free night a week at a community center with my daughter?”

Liz nodded and winked at Donna; they’d prepared for this question and a hundred others. Donna nodded slightly before looking at Michelle. “Because. Because you dropped out of high school. Because you car’s a piece of crap and you have to rely on food stamps that will never be enough. Because you make $8.50 an hour and only have one evening a week to spend with your daughter. Because you don’t want her to end up just like you and you’re the biggest influence in her life. Yes, strangers might be more qualified to teach her how to read, but they aren’t more qualified to make her see how important her education is. She has to learn that from you.”

Michelle looked at her and then over at Liz, studying them both for what felt like hours before letting the slyest of smiles grace her lips. “I want test markets. I want cost analysis. I want lesson plans and classroom goals developed by teachers. I want elementary school principals sitting in and giving advice. I want location studies; ten urban and ten suburban location possibilities so we can choose four urban and two suburban. I want one of the urban locations to include some sort of incentive to the mother and I want to know how those families do in comparison to the ones not getting incentives. I want studies, lots of studies ladies. And reports. In three years, I want to take this program to Congress, and I want to be able to point to a report and say x percentage of students who participated in this program excelled in first grade and ISTEP.” 

“Absolutely,” Liz said with a grin, taking a step forward and standing next to Donna.

“We’ve already done the location studies; we’ll narrow it down to twenty and get it to you next week,” Donna said, trying to reel in her smile and keep an aura of professionalism.

She nodded. “Good job, ladies.”

They left then, walking down the hallway and into the office they’d been sharing since starting on the project. As Liz shut the door behind them, Donna pumped her fist in the air and twirled around, shouting “Yes, yes, yes!” and laughing. 

Liz watched in amusement for a minute before interrupting her. “Uhh… Donna?”

“Did you hear that?” she asked as she continued to twirl.

“All the things we have to do? Yes.”

She stopped twirling and looked at Liz. “No,” she said, almost shouting. “Congress! Something we wrote is going to Congress! Congress!” 

Liz smiled again, Donna was nearly contagious. “Not yet you know. I mean, we haven’t even tested it. There’s a little more work to do.”

“I know,” she said, dancing around the small office. “But we got the green light.”

“The green light?”

She stopped and looked at her. “Shut up.”

“Sorry,” Liz said with a smirk. “I keep forgetting about the Wisconsonian language.”

“Wisconsonian?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“The green light?”

Donna pouted and started to say something, then paused and looked down at her watch. “Fine. I don’t have time to play anyway. I have class in a half hour.” 

She started packing her attaché case and Liz went around her desk to sit down. “You know what we’ve got to do?” she asked in a serious tone.

Donna looked up at her. “What?”

“We’ve got to go brainstorming tonight,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. Brainstorming, otherwise known as drinking, had begun innocently enough one Saturday night when Liz had come to Donna’s apartment in Logan Circle to brainstorm ideas. They’d given up a few hours later and hit a bar. The term stuck.

Donna shook her head. “Can’t. I have to study.”

Liz’s shook her head, mimicking Donna. “Not on a Friday night, you don’t. What time are you out of class?”

“5:10,” she said, closing the attaché case. “But I have to do some research in the library. I’ve been putting it off for days and I only have two weeks before finals.” 

“You put off your school work and I have to suffer?” Liz asked incredulously.

Donna looked up at her, giving her an evil eye. “So I could work on this project with you.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Well… fine. You can research until nine, then we’ll meet at Champions.”

She started to protest, then paused and tilted her head to the side. “That could work.”

“Of course it could. I’m calling Tim and Mark, so don’t be a no show.”

Donna picked up her coat and scarf and started out the door. “Nine o’clock. Champions.”

********** 

She finished her research a few minutes after eight and called her mom with the news about the project she and Liz had yet to name. They would, no doubt, choose a name for it while they were out brainstorming that night, but come Monday, they’d wonder what they were thinking.

Her mother reminded her again that she’d promised to come home for Christmas. Donna acted casual about it, but she couldn’t wait. She was exhausted. Law school was unbelievably harder than her bachelor’s degree had been, and working for the Council was unbelievably more time consuming than working for her father had been. Add in an actual social life outside of hanging out with her mother on Saturday nights and she barely found time for the little things like grocery shopping and doing dishes.

Still, she loved it. Her classes were exciting, her work was challenging, her new friends were fun, and guys in the district were hot, albeit a bit stuck on themselves. And DC was amazing. She’d spent the summer watching free black and white movies on the Mall, cruising up and down the Potomac on Mark’s speedboat, and taking the metro to the Eastern Market for Sunday brunch. She’d had to cut back on the socializing when classes started up, but she’d absolutely refused to go back to being that girl who was content to do nothing but sit in her bedroom and study.

She hung up with her mom, having killed enough time, and bundled up for the four block walk to Champions, a sports bar in Georgetown that had great burgers. Liz, Tom and Mark were already there and Liz walked up to her with a rum and coke before she’d even taken her coat off. “Brainstorming already?” Donna asked with a knowing smile.

Liz handed her the shot. “I thought I better get started, in case you were late.”

They went back to the table, Liz sitting next to Tom and Donna next to Mark, who after his third beer, had wandering hands. She didn’t mind. He flirted, but it never went anywhere and that was fine with her. She was happy to finally be in the dating around portion of her life, having reached it years late.

The talk was of politics that night; not only at their table, but seemingly at every table, and she loved it. She loved being where everyone thought they knew something. Where the guy or woman at the next table could be a senator’s aide or congressional lawyer. The particular subjects of the night seemed to be the staff shake-up at NOW and a spacecraft that was supposed to land on Mars a few weeks earlier but got lost on the way, and she listened as names were dropped and theories were formed.

They’d been there just over an hour when Liz launched into her ski lift story. It was a great story, picturing Liz with only one ski trying to figure out how to get off the lift, or at least it had been the first four times Donna had heard it. Tom had also heard it, but Mark hadn’t, and he was laughing so hard next to Donna that he was literally crying. She chuckled and shook her head at him, only half listening to Liz. She looked around the bar, noticing a pretty boy lawyer type, she loved how she could put down the “lawyer type” while at the same time aspiring to be one, standing at the bar ordering some drinks and she laughed as two sorority girls, dressed more for June that December, sidled up to him. 

He pretty much ignored them, turning around with two beers and two of something else in his hands and she blinked a few times, staring wide-eyed at Sam Seaborn walking towards the back of the bar. Instinctively, she put her elbow on the table, blocking her face with her arm, then looked back at Liz with a plastic smile on her face. She couldn’t say she was shocked, at least not overly so, except that yes, she was utterly, completely shocked. Because as many times as she’d told herself that DC wasn’t big, that political circles ran small and she was bound to run into him somewhere, eventually, and that she wouldn’t be able to run or hide or pretend like she didn’t see him, she’d never once thought that the person she’d run into might be Sam or CJ or Toby, or Mrs. Landingham or Margaret or Mr. McGarry. She’d always assumed it would be Josh.

She sunk down in the booth a little, pathetically trying to look through the small space left from bending her arm up around her face, but she couldn’t see where he’d gone, so she once again tried focusing on Liz. It was stupid, she thought to herself. If she wanted to know if Josh was with him, she should simply stand up and walk over there. She lived in the city now, she was in law school, she had a great, meaningful job. She should just walk up and say hello. She wasn’t that kid who’d walked in off the street. She wasn’t that kid who’d run away six weeks later.

But what if he was there? And what if he hated her? Or what if he blew her off? Or what if he was with a woman? Or what if he didn’t recognize her? That, she thought, would be the worst. If after almost three years of comparing everyone she met to him, pining for him, crying for him, watching for him on television, what if he looked at her with the blank stare of a stranger? 

So she didn’t go over or look over or acknowledge at all that she’d seen Sam. Liz, Tom and Mark kept talking and laughing and brainstorming and instead of going off to find his table, she ordered another drink and tried to laugh too. Because these people, these friends, didn’t know that Donna; the Donna who rarely smiled, who cried far too often, who buried herself in school work and doubted she’d ever love again the way she had for those six weeks. They knew the Donna who loved her job and her classes and the first apartment she’d ever had alone. Whose eyes went wide the first time they’d taken her to a demonstration in front of the Capitol and who occasionally went out and brainstormed. 

It was 11:15 when Sam walked past her table. Her back was to him and she was slouched over in the booth trying to whisper something to Liz over the noise, when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. CJ Cregg and Toby Ziegler followed him to and out the main door, and he held it for them while looking back in towards the bar. Shaking his head slightly, he walked out and only then did she sit up straight again.

Liz, having had more rum and cokes than Donna dared count, began shouting names for their project: “How to Not Be a Deadbeat Mom” and “Making Sure Your Kid Doesn’t Turn Out Like You” her favorites. Donna chuckled at her and inconspicuously slid her drink out of reach as she chanced a glance towards the bar.

He was thin. Thin and pale and… thin. And he needed a haircut. She was, in fact, not even positive it was him at first; not until he brought the shot glass down from his mouth, slamming it on the bar and calling for another. But then she was sure, thin or not. His tie was half-hazardly done up and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow, a look she used to know well. It took her several seconds to get past that point, the muscles in his forearms always proving to be a distraction to her, but as she moved her stare up to his face she thought again that he was pale and thin, even more so than he’d been just after the shooting, and instead of being in awe or trying to control the beating of her heart, she was just worried. 

He was working too hard, that had to be it. He’d gone back too soon, so eager to serve his president that he hadn’t taken care of himself, and obviously no one else noticed. If they had, they would’ve sent him home instead of taking him out to get a drink and leaving him there. Who the hell were these people? Couldn’t they see what was directly in front of their faces? He needed food. And rest. And food. 

He looked around the bar and she quickly ducked behind her seat a bit where she could still see him but where he wouldn’t get a good look at her. His eyes were bloodshot; he looked either drunk or exhausted, maybe both. What the hell were they thinking, leaving him there alone?

A woman on a barstool said something to him and Donna's eyes widened as she watched him turn and lean in close, too close to to the woman and give her a half-smile half-smirk before saying something back. She laughed, the whore, and put her hand on his knee, and Donna turned her head quickly back to the table, taking a deep breath and downing the rest of Liz’s drink. She should do something. Call someone. Get him a cab, take him home, punch the woman in the face, something. There had to be something she could do. And she was almost drunk enough to do it. If only she’d had a few more. Just two, she thought, would’ve given her the courage, the audacity. She turned back to watch again, but he was gone and she snapped her head towards the door just as he walked out with the woman she should’ve punched. 

She looked down at the empty glass in her hand, not quite sure what she was feeling; numb, hurt, confused, worried. Any number of feelings ran through her mind, not the least of which was didn’t he know he could pick her up in a bar?

“Donna?”

Tearing her eyes off the glass, she looked up. “Yeah?” she said with a dry mouth and shaky voice.

“Where’ve you been?” Liz asked, taking the glass from Donna’s hand and staring at it as though there should’ve been something in it.

“Huh? I…” she trailed off. What was she supposed to say? ‘The man I love just left with my heart and another woman?’

“Yeah, that was him,” Tom said, nodding towards the bar.

She looked over at him, squinting her eyes and thinking she might have missed something. “What?”

“Josh Lyman. The one who got shot at Rosslyn. That was him.”

She looked back towards the empty barstool and nodded numbly. “Oh,” she breathed out, nodding. “I thought it might be.”


	9. Stumbling into Life

She almost turned around in the parking lot, pausing and looking into her purse as though she’d forgotten something while questioning herself for the fifth time since leaving her apartment in a charcoal gray suit. Taking a few deeps breaths and reminding herself that she wasn’t attending as a stalker, but as someone who knew and genuinely liked Mrs. Landingham, albeit for a short amount of time, she gained the courage to follow the somber crowd into the National Cathedral.

She walked through the metal detector and handed a security guard her purse, wishing she’d thought to take out her spare tampon. When he handed it back, she tried to smile and then walked from the foyer into the sanctuary, her eyes widening as she looked around the huge interior, supposedly large enough to lay the Washington Monument inside. She found herself a bit slack-jawed at the enormity of it, and even more so at how packed full of people it was.

As she took a seat in nearly the back row, she looked around and wondered how many people there had even met Mrs. Landingham. She knew organizations were being “represented,” she’d been in DC long enough to know that politics weren’t taking the day off simply because the President’s executive secretary died, but she wondered if people felt as unsettled being there as she did. They must, she figured, because she’d at least known the woman, had conversations with her, eaten her homemade cookies that, although she’d never say out loud, were better than her mother’s. But she couldn’t lie, at least not to herself. Just like the strangers around her, Mrs. Landingham was only part of the reason she was there. 

She hadn’t seen Josh since just before Christmas, when he’d looked absolutely horrible; pale and exhausted, detached and far too thin. But although she hadn’t seen him, she’d heard the rumors. It was, after all, not a large city, and while the typical family in Iowa had little idea of who Josh Lyman was, he was a minor celebrity in the district. So when someone from her office had met him at a party on New Year’s Eve and gone home with him, she’d come in bragging about it the next day. And a few days later, when he collapsed in the West Wing and was rushed to the hospital, it’d been a top story on the local news and she’d once again had to fight the girl inside of her who wanted to drop everything and go to him. And when it was announced the next day that he had an infection from a cut on his hand that had spread, reporter after reporter had speculated on how the infection would affect his heart.

The rumors had died down soon after, and she hadn’t heard anything about him for months until the death of Mrs. Landingham, twelve days shy of one year after the shooting at Rosslyn. And then came the pictures and the footage and the comparisons and the commentary that May was an unlucky month for the Bartlet Administration, infuriating her that someone would label such tragic events as simply unlucky. And once again, she found herself freefalling and worrying about him, needing to see for herself that he was ok, and she was reminded of something her mother once told her; that if it was real, her love for Josh would never disappear completely. 

So there she sat, listening to people speak of a woman who’d lost two sons in Vietnam and a husband not long after. She already knew those things; they’d discussed Mrs. Landingham’s sons and the uncle Donna had never met one afternoon when the older woman asked her about her family and Donna mentioned that her father had fought in Vietnam. But she didn’t know about her work with early women’s rights groups in the fifties or her volunteer work at homeless shelters as she grew older. There was only so much you could know about someone as quiet as Mrs. Landingham.

President Bartlet stood to speak, the secret service agents inching in towards the podium, and she sighed and wondered what kind of funeral Mrs. Landingham would have wanted had she been given the choice. What it would’ve been like if her husband had still been alive to make the arrangements. She looked around at the dark suits and crowded pews, doubtful she would’ve wanted the fuss, and wondered if anyone had thought of that.

The President spoke of dedication and kindness and friendship. Of a woman who pushed him, who taught him, who took care of him, who loved him, and whom he loved, and for a brief moment she wondered if had she stayed with Josh, he ever would’ve spoken that way about her. 

At the end of the service Josh, Toby, and Sam, as well as three men she didn’t recognize carried Mrs. Landingham’s coffin down the long aisle, and although he kept his head straight ahead and his gaze down, she could tell that he was better than the last time she’d seen him. He was heavier, filled his suit out better, and had more color. And although he looked tired, it wasn’t the pure look of exhaustion she’d seen five months earlier.

She walked slowly out of the church with the gathering crowd and watched as they loaded the coffin into the hearse. There were only fifty, maybe seventy-five people outside at the time, and for a second she worried that he might see her. And for a second after that, she hoped he would.

She’d thought of it, of seeing him, talking to him, using the Council’s name to get through to his office, her imagination picturing it in the best of terms. She’d give his assistant her name and it wouldn’t be ten seconds later that he’d pick up the phone and with an excited voice say, ‘Donnatella?’ And she’d laugh at him and call him Joshua and he’d be ecstatic to hear that she lived in town. And a half hour later, they’d be sitting in a coffee shop talking about law school and position papers and her move there and in no time at all, he’d look across the table and tilt his head. And when she asked what he was looking at, he’d tell her that she was different, grown-up, and he’d ask her to dinner. And it would be perfect.

She shook it off and looked through the now larger crowd towards him again. He had his sunglasses on and was talking with a young black man who’d read a scripture at the service. Josh patted the his back and the young man dipped his head a little and smiled slightly, nodding. When he looked back up, Josh was smiling back at him, his dimples barely there in the somber mood, but the younger man’s smile broadened and he stood taller just the same. And at that, Donna smiled herself and turned, walking to her car. 

********** 

She glanced at her watch again, for what she figured was at least the fifth time since class started, willing the hands to move faster. She hoped Jeff was taking good notes, because she was too excited and nervous to take decent ones herself. The first four “First Chance” classes had finished the fifteen week course she and Liz had proposed and a group of twelve educators had helped develop. In the six weeks since the course ended, evaluations had been done by preschool and kindergarten teachers, recommendations had been made by participants and elementary school principals, the mayors of New York, Detroit, Fort Myers and Seattle had all weighed in, and it was time to take the next step. She had a meeting at one o’clock that afternoon with Michelle, Liz, and the Board of Directors to discuss exactly what that next step would be and how much funding they’d receive for it, and it was all she could do to stay seated in her class, much less actually pay attention.

The professor dismissed them a few minutes later, and had it not been for the fact that she hadn’t actually aged, she would’ve sworn she’d been sitting there for a decade. She jumped up quickly and started stuffing things into her attaché case as Jeff stood next to her and watched her with a chuckle. 

“So,” he said casually as they walked out of the lecture hall together. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.” 

She looked over at him in his loose fitting jeans, a Georgetown t-shirt, and sandals that were hardly appropriate for late October. “What did I say, exactly?”

“That a date is more than an action movie and pizza.”

She paused briefly, barely noticeable in her steps. “You’re bringing this up now, when I have a huge meeting at work today?” she asked while walking quickly through the building and out main doors.

“Hey,” he said indignantly. “You questioned my ability to properly impress a woman. I’m a man. I can’t leave that unanswered.” They’d been circling around this dating thing for about a month, after meeting in ‘Church-State Law Seminar’ and teaming up for a case study. His idea of romance seemed to be getting extra cheese on a large pizza and watching some over-muscled guy who couldn’t act blow things up, yet was surprised that Donna hadn’t fallen head over heals. 

“Clearly,” she deadpanned. “But I don’t have time to play with you right now. I, unlike others of us here, have a job.”

“Like it’s my fault my parents are rich,” he said as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Anyway, I don’t want to argue. I simply want to prove myself,” he said with a grin. 

She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

“I do indeed.”

“And how do you intend to do this?” she asked skeptically.

He held two tickets in front of her face. “‘Carmina Burana’ is playing at the Kennedy Center. I intend on taking you to dinner tomorrow night and then to the ballet.”

Her eyes widened. It seemed the dancing was over. “Excuse me?”

“I might even bring you flowers.”

They continued walking, heading a few blocks over where she could catch a cab. “Jeff, I…”

He cut her off. “So, tomorrow night… you in a dress that shows far more skin than you’re showing now. Me in a suit and tie…”

She looked down at the pantsuit she had on and laughed at his audacity, her very favorite thing about his charm. Glancing appraisingly over at him, she raised an eyebrow. “Do you even own a suit?”

“I do,” he said with a smirk. “And I don’t want to brag, but … well, let’s just say, I’ve gotten complements.”

She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes in a gesture that did nothing to hide the smile on her face. They reached an empty cab then and he opened the door for her. She looked at him in surprise and he smiled. “See? I’m impressing you already. Good luck at your meeting today,” he said with a wink, shutting the door and watching as the cab pulled away.

Ten minutes later, she stood in the elevator wiping her sweaty palms on her pants and reminding herself to breathe. It was just the Board of Director’s, she told herself for the tenth time that day. They were on her side. Unless, of course, they thought “First Chance” was a horrible, wretched program with no hopes of helping anyone. Then they’d be on the side of firing her. 

She glanced into the mirror in the elevator and noticed she was pacing. She took a deep breath, reeling in her imagination and told herself again that everything would be fine. She wasn’t new at this anymore. She’d been at the Council for over a year; she’d worked on several programs; she wasn’t some naïve college dropout. This program was her baby. Her first. She’d seen it from the beginning and she was ready for this meeting.

The elevator opened as she finished her pep talk and Liz was standing on the other side, leaning against the wall opposite it. “We’ve got major problems,” she said in a hushed voice without so much as a hello.

Donna’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. She thought she might collapse right there on the elevator floor, but somehow stepped quickly out and grabbed Liz by the arm, practically dragging her down the hallway and into their shared office. When they were both inside, she ducked her head back out and looked both ways down the hallway before shutting the door and turning around sharply. “What?” she nearly screamed.

“Mayor Engleman rescinded his statement and sent out another saying that ‘First Chance’ is…” Liz looked down at a piece of paper in her hand and Donna started pacing again. “… ‘an ill-advised program developed by teachers who are obviously out of touch with educating today’s youth. It’s a waste of government money and an affront to every single teenage mother in America.’”

Donna stopped pacing and looked with horror in her eyes at Liz, either faint or queasy but not sure which. “When…but he raved…” She couldn’t believe what was happening. “What the hell changed his mind?” she shouted, grabbing the piece of paper out of Liz’s hand. When she looked down to read it, the paper was blank and Liz started laughing. Confusion hit her and it took several seconds to realize what was happening. “You…” she took a deep, long breath and looked back up. “I’m going to have to kill you now,” she said in an eerily calm voice.

Liz ignored her and kept laughing as she walked to her desk and sat down with a large smile on her face. “I haven’t had that much fun in months.”

“You’re an evil, evil woman,” Donna said, trying to regain control of her breathing.

“Yes, I know. But aren’t you more relaxed than you were before?”

“No!” Donna nearly shouted. “My blood pressure’s about 250 over 190 and my pulse is in some sort of race!”

“Hmm…” Liz said. “I hadn’t considered that reaction.”

“Elizabeth!!”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m so not fine,” she said as she started pacing again.

“These people are on our side, Donna.”

She glanced at her but kept pacing. “I tried that logic in the elevator. It didn’t work.”

Liz chuckled and stood up, walking to Donna and putting her hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “Donna. Have you ever been more prepared for a meeting than you are this one?”

Donna started to say something then stopped and looked at her for several seconds. “No.”

“Can you think of any question, any question at all, that they could ask that you or I wouldn’t be able to answer?”

She shook her head and let out a long breath. “No.”

“Tell me again why this meeting is important?”

“Because…” she looked up and paused, taking another deep breath and replying calmly. “Because people need this program.”

Liz smiled and nodded. “Are you going to let those people down?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

***********

She half-hazardly started tossing things into a box that she found in the office kitchen while Liz was on a phone call. A coffee mug with pencils and pens in it, her tape dispenser, a stapler and staple remover, three black trays... everything that wasn’t breakable was tossed into the box.

A minute later, Liz hung up the phone and sighed heavily. “Liz…” Donna scoffed, pulling things out of her second drawer and tossing them towards the box.

Liz sighed again. “You’re leaving me. I feel like I’m getting divorced.”

Donna chuckled. “I’m moving all of seven offices away. I think you’ll manage.”

“But it’s a whole different department,” Liz whined. 

It had been three weeks since Donna was offered a position in the legal/legislative department at the Council. She still had a year left at Georgetown, so when Cathy left, she was surprised that Michelle offered her the position. Still, she’d jumped at the chance, waiting to transition just long enough to finish her spring semester finals. 

“Look at the bright side. If I flunk out of law school, they’re moving me back here,” Donna said with a chuckle. 

“Miss ‘Straight A’ flunking out? I don’t see it happening,” Liz replied gloomily.

Donna smirked. “Neither do I.”

Liz sighed again, exaggerated and with a bit of a whine to it. “Pretty soon it’ll be like we don’t even know each other.”

“No it won’t.” 

“Yes it will. In a month, you’ll have forgotten me just like you did Jeff.”

Donna looked up and furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Once you didn’t have class with Jeff anymore it was over. You dropped him like Julia Roberts did Kiefer Sutherland when they finished filming that stupid movie together about the doctors. It’ll be like that with us. Once we’re not around each other, you’ll drop me.”

“Ok, but Jeff was hardly Kiefer Sutherland and you and I aren’t sleeping together. You’re aware of that, correct?”

“Still…” 

“You need professional help,” Donna said with a chuckle, picking up the box. “Come on, I’ll show you my new digs. You’ll see… it’s not that far away.”

Liz stuck her bottom lip out and stood up. “Can I come visit?”

Donna laughed. “Everyday.”

She sighed again. “Ok.”

Donna shook her head and watched as Liz grabbed a picture of Donna with her parents off the nearly empty desk and a plant off a tall filing cabinet. “Oh no…”

“It’s a gift,” Liz said smirking. They'd done all they could to kill that plant, but it refused to die. They walked down the hallway together and around a corner to Donna’s new office, Liz mumbling about a completely different hallway and Donna promising they’d be in the same time zone.

She spent the better part of the afternoon setting up her new office, not stopping until Michelle popped her head in around four o’clock. “I don’t know your intercom number.”

Donna looked over at the phone and shrugged. “Neither do I.”

“Well that should be convenient,” Michelle said, glancing around the room.

Donna smiled and stood up. “Need something?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking a step inside and closing the door behind her. “I need you to sit in on a meeting with someone from the Women’s Leadership Coalition with me.”

“Kay. When?”

“Now. She’s in my office bitching about the Welfare Reform Bill Reauthorization vote on Friday.”

“I’m not completely up to speed on that yet.”

“That’s ok. No one else likes meeting with her, she’s not overly friendly.” Donna’s eyes widened. “I’m kidding, except not really. You don’t need to say anything. I just want you there so it looks like I’m taking her seriously.”

“But you’re not?” Donna asked as she followed Michelle out of her office and down the hallway to Michelle’s. 

Michelle gripped the door handle and looked back at Donna. “Absolutely not, so don’t give her false hope,” she said quietly. She opened the door and a woman stood up as Michelle and Donna walked in. “Amy, this is Donna Moss from our legal/legislative department. Donna, Amy Gardner. Amy’s the director of the Women’s Leadership Coalition.”

Donna smiled and shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

The woman smiled back and Michelle waved them back into seats. “I was just telling Michelle that three hundred million dollars is being added to the Welfare Reform Reauthorization for marriage incentives and we have to move fast to stop it.”

“You want to delay the vote?” asked Donna.

“No, I want it to fail,” she replied.

“It’s a republican congress, Amy,” Michelle said. “Not everything goes our way.”

“Cash bonuses to mom’s who marry the father of their children and lose all rights to any past due child support?” Donna looked over at Michelle; it was a crappy addition and they all knew it. 

Michelle ignored her and looked back at Amy. “Have you spoken with the American Children’s Alliance? We pretty much let them have this one.”

“I’ve spoken to them. They’re hesitant to get involved.”

“Why?” Donna asked.

“They’re happy with other parts of the bill.”

“There’s a billion dollars for childcare in it,” Michelle said, looking at Donna.

“A billion dollars?” Donna asked, stunned. The Alliance had asked for only half that. “We can’t come out against a bill that gives a billion dollars to childcare.” 

“They’re coercing women to marry these deadbeats,” Amy said in a strained voice.

Donna nodded, but a billion for childcare was unbelievable. “I understand that. Have you spoken with the White House?”

Amy glared at her. “Of course I’ve spoken with the White House. I’ve been over this with Josh Lyman so many times I could scream.”

“Aren’t the two of you…” Michelle trailed off as Donna’s head snapped to her and then back to Amy.

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t an ass,” Amy mumbled before looking back at Michelle. “This is a crappy deal and he’s welcoming it.”

And just like that, Donna hated Amy Gardner. “Welcoming it?” she asked incredulously.

“He put this deal together,” Amy said matter-of-factly. 

She couldn’t believe it. This woman was a taller version of Mandy Hampton. Josh might be brilliant, but Donna was certain he had horrendous taste in women. “Then I’m sure he got more than he gave.”

“He gave away women.”

“He most certainly did not give away women. Josh has never failed to do everything in his power for women and children. Not a day goes by that he’s not fighting…”

“Donna…” 

She looked over at Michelle and her eyes widened. It took a few seconds to find her voice again. “I…” she stammered before looking back at Amy. She took a deep breath and bit back the venom in her voice. “Marriage incentives are crap. I understand that, I really do. And I understand that women are your top priority, but children are ours and a billion dollars in childcare is absolutely huge.”

Amy held her stare for several seconds before dismissing her and turning to Michelle. “Michelle?”

“I’ll call the White House and make sure they know we’re unhappy about the marriage incentives. But we’re six months from the election, Amy. We’re not doing anything to give Ritchie an edge.”

Amy looked down at her lap before standing up. She reached for the door before turning back. “We’re going to continue fighting this, just so you know.”

“Absolutely,” Michele said, nodding.

She looked at Donna and without another word, left. Donna stared at the door she’d just walked through, and then looked over at Michelle. “Sorry,” she said quietly.

“I thought you weren’t going to say anything.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Michelle’s serious face disappeared and a faint smirk replaced it. “I told you she wasn’t overly friendly.”

********** 

She woke up at six and went for her morning jog, something she’d only been doing for a few months, since visiting her parents over spring break and going out for what she thought would be a relaxing run with her father. Her inability to keep up had humiliated her and she’d come immediately back to DC and added a three mile jog to her daily schedule, quickly finding herself addicted to the freedom it seemed to offer. 

It was pouring down rain outside, mocking her as she ran through the streets of Georgetown, but she couldn’t be brought down that morning. As far as she was concerned, the sun was out and the sticky July heat was cool and comforting.

She got back to the apartment and kicked off her wet shoes, getting directly into the hot shower. The water pressure wasn’t as good as it had been at her apartment in Logan Circle, but the rent was free and she was living in Georgetown, so she found it hard to complain.

She turned on her stereo when she got out of the shower, the soundtrack to “One Fine Day” playing oldies loudly while she finished getting ready for work, putting on her favorite suit and spending a few extra minutes on her hair and make-up. She had a ten o’clock meeting with Congressmen Wilson and Allen on a new bill the Council was proposing, pre-school programs for children with special needs, and she was going to wow them. 

Once she was ready, she put on her trench coat, grabbed her umbrella, and headed to her car. The Baked and Wired down the street had a line outside the door, so she skipped it and headed for the gas station.

It was busy that morning at the Shell station, and she had to wait a few minutes for a free pump. A Tahoe pulled out, giving her an opening, and she opened her umbrella and stayed carefully underneath it as she got out and swiped her credit card, then started pumping the gas. Once it was flowing steadily, she went inside to get a cup of coffee. 

The coffee station was a mess; paper napkins rolled up and strewn about, spilled coffee on the counter, empty packets of cream and sugar lying everywhere. She paused for a second, re-thinking gas station coffee, then held her coat back as she reached for a Styrofoam cup so it wouldn’t get into the mess.

She poured the coffee, that if nothing else, smelled fresh, and added a packet of cream and a half a packet of Sweet ‘n Low to it before taking a sip and sighing. There was no doubt; it was a drug. She reached into her pocket for a dollar and stepped into the line at the counter just as the person in front of her finished up. She heard him say thanks, but hadn’t had time to process the fact that she knew that voice before he turned around stopped her heart. 

It was like every time she’d seen him in the last four years. Time stopped, breathing ceased, there was nothing but him, and she could do nothing but study him. His face, his chest moving with his breathing, the pure brown of his eyes, the crevices in his cheeks that held his dimples... He was simply the most beautiful man she’d ever met, strong and powerful and heroic and she tilted her head a bit to the side and smiled at his drenched clothing and crooked tie. “Hi,” she breathed out.

“Uhh...hi.”

His voice brought her back to reality and she blinked and focused on his eyes, questioning and wide. “Donna. Donna Moss,” she said, reminding him, willing him to remember her. But his face showed no recollection, and just as he’d stopped her heart a moment earlier, he shredded it to pieces as he stared at her blankly, as if he’d never seen her before in his life. “I…” she choked out, trying to keep the tears swimming in her eyes from falling down her face. “…volunteered for the Bartlet for America campaign for a while. I was…” she trailed off, silently pleading with him to remember her. 

He smiled at her, a plastic, political, impersonal smile, and shook her hand, answering the question she thought she’d never have an answer to. No, she’d never meant a thing to him. “Well, Donna,” he said politely. “We appreciate the hard work you did for the President’s campaign.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, his cold hand clasped with hers, and she wanted to sob. To tell that she loved him, that she always had. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he see that he was killing her as he stood there not knowing her? That in her whole life, the hardest thing she’d ever done was to walk away from him, but that this was a thousand times harder? “It was…” she stammered, trying to keep from falling to the ground in a boneless heap. “It was an honor,” she said as bravely as possible, her eyes faltering and focusing on his lips.

He nodded at her then and with another fake smile walked past her, tears falling down her face even before the bell rang over the door as he passed underneath and left the building.


	10. Stumbling into Life

Time seemed to move in slow motion after that. Her tears started falling, landing on her lip as the bell sounded over the door. The coffee cup slipped from her hand, hitting the tip of her shoe before the floor, the top popping off and soaking her leg and the floor. The man behind her swore under his breath and jumped, but she just stood there as it soaked through her pants and onto her leg. 

And then the cashier was coming around the front of the register with a “Wet Floor” sign and she was holding the dollar bill in her hand out towards him, whispering that she was sorry and he was quietly telling her not to worry about it. Her whole body was shaking, her legs and hands, her breathing, even her jaw, and she nodded and choked on her breath as she thanked him with a hoarse voice. 

She turned to leave, glancing at the man behind her, his face turning from anger to pity in the span of a second, and she looked quickly down, wondering how bad she looked, and mumbled her apologies before walking towards the door. He turned around and followed her, holding it open for her and reminding her to put up her umbrella, taking it from her wrist when she showed no comprehension and opening it for her, then smiling softly at her when she nodded slightly at him.

Her car seemed miles away and she doubted she had the strength in her legs to get to it across the parking lot, but she stepped down off the sidewalk, stumbling slightly, and walked across the pumps towards it. A car made a horrible screech nearby, but like everything else, it sounded far away. But finally she was there, trying to pull the hose out of her tank, something she’d done hundreds of times, but was suddenly finding too difficult to maneuver. After several tries, she felt someone’s hands on hers, and startled, she looked up into the man’s face who’d held the door for her. “I’ve got it,” he said quietly, taking it from her and hanging it up, then screwing the cap on and closing her tank door.

“Thank you,” she said numbly, trying to smile but ending up biting her lip to keep from crying even harder, and he asked if she was ok to drive. She took a deep shaky breath and nodded, telling him she just lived two blocks away, and he watched her as she walked around to the driver’s side and fumbled with the door handle, finally getting it open and then closing her umbrella and slipping inside.

When she walked back into the second story apartment she’d be living in for the next five and a half months, she looked up at the clock on the mantel and sighed. She’d only left for work ten minutes ago. Wiping tears off her face, she slipped off her shoes and went into her bedroom and lay down on the bed, closing her eyes and wanting nothing more than to erase the morning from her mind. But then her cell phone was ringing and Michelle was telling her that the meeting with Congressmen Wilson and Allen had been postponed to Monday because Oklahoma had several tornados the night before and Congressman Wilson had taken an early morning flight to Stillwater and she was making up an excuse and taking the day off. And it had still only been fifteen minutes and she was beginning to think the day would never end.

********** 

She sat numbly in the cab, much the way she had on the airplane, the entire way to her parent’s house. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day; she’d gone from not being hungry to not sure she’d keep anything down to simply not having the strength, but she knew her mom would take care of that and she was almost looking forward to it. When the cab dropped her off, she paid the driver and grabbed her duffel bag before taking a deep breath and walking up the driveway to the sidewalk to the door. She still had a key, but by the time she dug it out from her purse, her mom had opened the door and was smiling at her like she understood completely. Donna doubted she did, but the smile was comforting none-the-less. 

Her mom held the door open farther and Donna walked inside, dropping the bag by the stairs and all but collapsing into her mother’s arms. “I made up your bed for you, if you’re tired,” she said a minute later.

“You knew I was coming?” Donna asked unsurprised, pulling back and looking at her mother.

“Just in case,” she said with another of her knowing smiles.

Donna had called her that morning, once she had the tears under control. It had turned out to be pointless, because as soon as she heard her mother’s voice, she’d started crying again. By that afternoon, she found herself driving to the airport and using her charge card, something she never did, to purchase a plane ticket home.

Her dad came home from work not long after, and Donna could tell by looking at him that he knew something was going on but had no idea what it was and she wondered not for the first time if he ever felt left out of her and her mother’s relationship. Still, he hugged her tightly and during dinner, asked her a thousand questions about work and the promotion while she put on her bravest smile and pretended life was perfect. After dinner, she heard her parents talking and not long after, her father was leaving to play an impromptu game of poker with the guys.

She and her mother hadn’t discussed anything yet, other than the few details Donna had been able to get out on the phone that morning, and even as they did the dishes side by side, her mother didn’t say anything about Josh. Donna knew she wouldn’t; she’d wait until Donna brought it up, regardless of how long it took. It was that patience that made her feel the safest, that patience that had always told her she could tell her mother anything.

They finished the dishes and drove down to the Chocolate Shoppe Ice Cream on Daniels for some Door County Cherry ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate sauce on the side. It had been Donna’s favorite since she was a kid, and only available in the summer, and they sat outside at a picnic table and ate it while her mom talked about the neighbors and her father’s newly formed habit of falling asleep on the couch while watching the news at night.

It was on the way home, when the car was quiet and the sun had finally set, the darkness giving her that extra security she hadn’t realized she needed, when she quietly said, “I’ve been thinking of moving home.”

Her mother kept driving, and it was quiet for so long that Donna thought maybe she hadn’t heard her. But after what felt like minutes, and without taking her eyes off the road, she spoke. “You’ve been thinking about it…” she said, stressing the ‘been’.

“Yes,” Donna lied. 

Her mom nodded and the car went silent again. “You’re not happy in DC?”

“Not anymore,” Donna whispered, wiping away a lone tear that slid down her cheek.

“Not since this morning,” her mother replied as fact.

Donna looked out the window for several seconds then continued, ignoring her mom’s last statement. “I’d have to do it soon. Fall semester starts in four weeks.”

“You’d transfer to UW?”

“UW has a good law school.”

Her mom pulled into the driveway and put the car into park, then stared at the steering wheel for several seconds while Donna stared at her hands folded neatly on her lap. She suddenly felt like she was ten years old again, asking her mom for permission to do the unthinkable. “So you’re going to leave the school you love and the job of your dreams so you can run away from Josh Lyman again?” She pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened her door. “Honestly Donna, I never knew you were such a coward.”

The door shut then, but it might as well have been a slap in the face. Her mother had never spoken to her like that and Donna found herself frozen in place as anger and betrayal washed over her. And then she was throwing open the car door, getting out and slamming it behind her before storming up to the condo and doing the same to the door there. “I didn’t run away from Josh today!” she yelled as she faced her mother in the foyer. “I said hello and he didn’t recognize me!”

“So you got on the next plane,” her mother replied calmly while checking the answering machine for messages. “Willing to give up your life again for some guy.”

“Moving back is not giving up my life! It’s just…”

“Giving up the life you want,” her mother cut in and finished before turning around and looking at her. “And this isn’t a hiding place.”

But it was home, it was her shelter, and for the first time ever, it felt like her mom was taking that shelter away. “So I’m just supposed to stay there and let my heart break over and over?”

He mother half rolled her eyes. “You’re not the first person who’s had a broken heart, Donna.” 

Donna looked at her mother in utter disbelief. “You’re talking to me about broken hearts? Really? When you wake up in the middle of the night and the love of your life isn’t next to you, all you have to do is come and get him off the fucking couch! Don’t talk to me about broken hearts! You have no idea what I go through every day!” She’d never sworn at her mother before, and before that very second she would’ve said that she never would. But until that second, she would’ve sworn her mother was always on her side.

The last sentence hung there for several seconds before her mother turned around and pretended to sort mail. “Well, maybe now that he’s proven himself to be imperfect, you can stop being the martyr,” she said casually. Donna stood staring at her, unable to even fathom this happening, and her mom turned around again and looked at her expectantly. “I mean, that’s why you’re upset, right? The perfect Josh Lyman, the man no other can live up to, didn’t remember you. How dare he?”

“Shut-up! Just shut-up! You don’t know anything about him!”

Her mom nodded slightly. “It’s been four years, Donna. Neither do you.”

Donna gasped and closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing and shaking, not opening them again until the thick layer of silence in the room was overpowering. She looked off towards the stairs and spoke with a hoarse voice. “I’m going to bed.” Her mom didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop her, just let her go, and she climbed the steps slowly and walked down the small hallway to her room, closing the door behind her.

According to the clock, it wasn’t quite nine, ten in DC. She hadn’t been to bed that early in years but she was suddenly exhausted and went into her bathroom and took out her contacts and put her hair into a sloppy ponytail before brushing her teeth and washing her face. She heard her mother walking down the hallway while she was slipping into a pair of pajamas from her old dresser and she thought maybe she’d come in and apologize, but she passed Donna’s room and a second later she heard the door close to her parents’ bedroom. She stood there staring at her own door for a moment longer, then turned off the light and crawled between the blankets, staring up at the ceiling.

She lay there in the blackness of the room for minutes, maybe hours, she wasn’t sure. Time seemed to be pushing together and swallowing her up as she tried to process what had just happened. Had she really just told her mother to shut-up? Had her mother really just acted as though her feelings for Josh were nothing? Tears started falling again, different from the morning tears, although she couldn’t pinpoint how exactly. This was supposed to be her safe place. Her mother was supposed to be the one she could always turn to. She wasn’t supposed to calmly berate her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Was it possible that she never understood? That she was never on Donna’s side? That Donna had always been completely alone in this? Or had she just grown sick of it after four years? Sick of the tears, of the ups and downs, the almosts when it came to getting over him. Donna sighed; she certainly had. 

But that didn’t mean she got to put down Josh. Josh who watched out for her and took care of her. Who made sure she had a place to sleep and food to eat. Who taught her and teased her and let her argue with him. Who showed her what she wanted to be and the kind of man she wanted to be with. Who changed her life completely. 

And then forgot her.

She rolled onto her side in the dark room cried harder, feeling stupid and naive. She’d said it a hundred times. ‘He probably doesn’t even remember who I am.’ But saying it didn’t mean she believed it. She never believed it. 

There were footsteps in the hallway; her father home from his poker game. He paused at her door and she tried not to make any sounds, but he must’ve heard her crying, because a minute later, the door opened and the bed sunk down next to her and her mother was rubbing her back and whispering that it was going to be ok.

“He forgot me,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“He changed my entire life and doesn’t even remember it.”

“Yeah.”

“How could he do that? How could he forget me like that?” she asked through tears.

“I don’t know sweetheart, but it doesn’t mean that time never happened. It doesn’t erase what you took from it.”

She was quiet then, crying for another minute before sitting up and facing her mom. She handed Donna a tissue, who attempted a half-smile and took it from her, wiping her eyes and face while taking a deep breath. “I’m not moving home,” she said a little stronger. 

Her mom nodded and smiled at her. “I know.”

“I love my job. I’m working on legislation now so I’m bound to see him again, but I’m not going to throw away my career to keep that from happening.”

Her mom smiled slightly, putting her palm on Donna’s cheek. “It’ll get easier, you know.”

Donna nodded and looked down at the tissue in her hand. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You’re entitled,” she said with a grin. “Once every 29 years. Which means you have to watch yourself until you’re what, 58?”

Donna laughed quietly. “Thank you.”

“For what? Being mean and heartless?”

“For saying what I needed to hear.”

********** 

Three weeks. She was starting her last year of law school in three weeks. Eight classes left. And the bar, of course, but she was choosing not to worry about that yet. Eight classes. Six really, if she got the ok to use her work at the Council instead of completing two internships over the next two semesters. She had a meeting with her dean that morning to discuss her duties and the Council’s work, but it was just a formality. The Children’s Right’s Council was well known and well respected. 

With the internship out of her way, she’d have only six classes remaining, only three each semester, which was a minor miracle in itself. ‘Child, Parent, and the State,’ ‘Juveniles and the Courts,’ ‘Child Immigration and National Law,’ ‘Sexuality, Gender and the Law,’ ‘Legislation Drafting III,’ and ‘Higher Education Law and Policy.’ Two semesters, fifteen weeks each. She’d be a lawyer in nine months.

She wasn’t going into work until after her meeting on the law campus, which was at nine. So after a longer than usual stop at the Baked and Wired, her absolute favorite thing about living in Georgetown, she drove to the Grace’s Custom Cleaners to pick up some dry cleaning that had been there since she’d flown home to see her parents the week before. 

Finding a parking place a few blocks away, she grabbed her ticket out of her purse and walked inside. Grace, who she presumed was the owner, although the cleaners was on Grace Street NW, so she couldn’t be sure, was finishing up with a customer and smiled at her before another worker came out and took the ticket from Donna.

While waiting, which she’d learned from two previous visits could take a while, she looked at the bulletin board on the wall and skimmed over ads for babysitters, dog walkers, used cars and similar things. The door opened and closed, the man who was there when she walked in leaving, and a moment later the worker came back out with two large bundles of clothing on hangers and in plastic.

She looked at the clothes and back at the woman with large eyes. “Those aren’t mine.”

“They aren’t?”

Donna smiled politely and shook her head. “No.” 

The woman looked at the tag she’d taken from Donna and compared it to the tag stapled to one of the plastic bags. “The numbers match.”

Donna looked at the tags herself. The one stapled to the bag said Grostefon on it, and she looked back at the woman. “There must’ve been a mix up. My name’s Moss. Donna Moss.” 

“Oh… kay…” the woman said reluctantly, disappearing again into the back room and leaving Donna alone to read the bulletin board again. The door opened and closed a minute later and she glanced over and froze.

He walked in wearing a tan suit that made him look absolutely incredible, and she was in an instant more turned on than she’d been in four years. He didn’t noticed her there, not until he said to hello Grace and then happened to glance in her direction, their eyes meeting and locking, and it was as if she’d gone back in time to unexplained looks and floating on air. She wondered if he could see that she was shaking.

“How are you this morning, Mr. Lyman?” Grace asked. 

“Good,” he answered, still looking at Donna. There was shock on his face, and she almost dared to hope that he did remember her after all. That he’d gone to work that day and at some point it had just dawned on him. But she couldn’t hope. She couldn’t let herself get sucked into that again. It would only lead to more pain when she found out she was wrong, and she suddenly wished he’d turn around and look at Grace, because she knew from years past that she wouldn’t, couldn’t be the one to turn away first.

“I’ll get your things and be right back.”

And then he did turn to look at Grace and said thanks and Donna closed her eyes for a second and swallowed heavily before turning and looking straight ahead towards the back room as Grace left. And then, as if it was normal, as if it wouldn’t serve to further shred her heart, they were alone. 

She didn’t say anything. There was absolutely no way she was going to put herself into the position of being dismissed by him again. He didn’t know who she was, a fact she didn’t need to be reminded of, so she stared straight ahead, and so did he, and the silence became thick and uncomfortable and stifling, and she wondered if he felt it too. “It always takes them forever to find things back there.”

His voice in the silence surprised her, but after a few seconds she managed a chuckle. “I’ve only been here a few times, but I’ve noticed,” she said in a voice that she hoped sounded casual. She kept her eyes ahead, but took a deep breath and congratulated herself for not fainting. 

He didn’t say anything else, and after a several seconds she found herself biting her lip and wondering if she should risk saying anything else. “They do a great job, though,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, and she braced herself and stole a glance at him. He was reading something on the counter, paying no attention to her at all, and she wondered how it was so easy for him to do. A moment later, he stood upright again. “Yeah.”

“So,” she said, hoping her couldn’t hear the fear in her voice. “How’s the campaign going?” 

He turned towards her then, and for a second he looked like he was going to tell her to leave him the hell alone and let him wait for his dry cleaning in peace, and it startled her because he’d never looked at her like that before. But then his eyes softened and he smiled, not enough to bring out his dimples, but it wasn’t the fake smile he’d given her at the Shell, so it was enough . “Well, thanks.”

She nodded and tried to relax into this small-talk they’d somehow forced themselves and each other into. “It must be going well if you have time to pick up your own dry cleaning.” 

“Here you go Mr. Lyman. Medium starch, just like you like it.” 

He continued looking at her for a second before turning to Grace. “Thanks Grace. Charge my account.” 

He looked back at her with a strange look on his face, like he was trying to figure something out, but then turned and walked towards the door and she bit her lip and reminded herself that this was going to happen from time to time. She was going to run into him and her mother was right, she wasn’t going to be able to get on a plane each time she did.

Time seemed to move slowly as he walked the ten feet to the door, and she couldn’t help turning and watching him leave, just in case… Just in case she didn’t run into him after that. Just in case it was the last time. “Do good Josh,” she whispered to herself as he pushed the door open.

And then the most amazing thing happened. He stopped walking and looked back at her, and with a small smile she was sure she’d seen in a thousand dreams, he thanked her. But it wasn’t the thanks or the smile or the way the sun shone in from the open door and kind of pooled around him that made her smile larger than she had in four years. That had her smiling even as the woman finally returned with her clothes listed under the name Donald Mosh, or even hours later as she tried to concentrate on the bill she was working on for children with special needs. It was what he said after the thanks. Because after he said thanks, he said her name.


	11. Stumbling into Life

That Saturday, Liz, Tom and Mark met at Donna’s apartment so they could once again make fun of the number of plants in the living room, having taken to calling Donna ‘Plantgirl’ a month earlier when they helped move her things in. From there, the four of them took a cab to Arlington for a Rock the Vote concert at the House of Blues. The election was in two and a half months, and with the president’s health issues, polls were showing a very tight race between the President and Governor Ritchie, the republican nominee she and her mother loved to make fun of.

The cab driver refused to let anyone sit in the front seat, which meant Liz had to sit on Tom’s lap. They had finally begun dating that past winter after years of friendship, their public displays of affection quite nauseating, and once Donna had broken things off with Jeff the following month, Mark had turned the flirting up a notch. She still laughed it off, the arm that tended to drape across her shoulders, the talk of double dates and foursome vacations, the hand that liked to rest on her knee, but she knew he was looking for the four of them to become the next ‘I Love Lucy’ four-pack. And while he was cute, not hot but cute, and worked as a lobbyist for the EPA, the sparks she felt for him couldn’t light a candle, much less a fire.

They walked in, and with the exception of the strobe lights circling the main area and the light from the stage, it was completely dark inside. There were tables and chairs on the sides and in the balcony area, but the main floor was standing only, and it was crowded with college-aged students dancing to a rock band she’d never heard before. The truth was, it wasn’t really her scene; the crowds, the noise, the stuffiness, the overall chaos it seemed to be about, but it was something different and she liked a few of the bands listed to perform, so when Tom had suggested it, they’d all agreed, including her.

They stayed towards the back of the crowd, dancing a bit, but mostly just swaying with the music and sweating. Tom stood behind Liz, nearly towering over her small 5’2” frame, holding her around the waist from behind and resting his chin on top of her head, and Donna glanced at the smile on Liz’s face and smiled herself. It was nice to see her happy and Donna had enjoyed watching ‘The Domestication of Liz Driscoll’ over the last several months. 

They’d been there for a few hours, pressed up against people and each other, when it really started to take its toll. Her hair was sticking to her face and the sweat that was trickling down her neck, her feet hurt from the two inch heels that looked great but had been less than practical, and quite the headache was forming from what had to be an unhealthy volume of noise. She turned to Liz and shouted, “Restroom.”

Liz nodded. “I’ll come too,” then kissed Tom and sent him and Mark for beer before following Donna out of the auditorium and into a hallway that while quieter and cooler, had a ten minute line to the restroom. A glance down the hallway confirmed her suspicions that the men’s room had no wait at all. 

When they finally got inside, Liz headed for a stall while Donna went to the sink and rinsed her face off, then used a paper towel to wipe sweat off her neck. A stall door opened and through the mirror she could see Amy Gardner come out. Her eyes widening at the sight of the ridiculously tight tank top Amy was wearing and she wondered if perhaps she was confused and thought she herself to be an undergrad. Amy walked up to the sink and caught Donna’s eyes as she turned on the water.

Donna smiled politely. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she said neutrally.

“Donna Moss,” Donna reminded her, fairly certain she hadn’t given as much thought to Donna as Donna had her since finding out she was dating Josh. Even at that moment, standing there as demurely as possible with a fake smile on her face, she couldn’t help picturing Amy tripping in the halls of Congress. She suppressed a laugh and shook it off. Thoughts like that were to be expected when faced with the wench dating the love of your life. “We met at the…”

“Children’s Right’s Council. I know,” Amy replied in an uninterested voice. “How are you?”

“Well thanks, and you?”

“Good,” she said coldly. Liz walked out of a stall then and up to the sink as Amy walked to the paper towel dispenser and pulled a few out, drying her hands. She threw them away and then started towards the door.

“It was nice seeing you,” Donna said as Amy walked out of the restroom without looking back.

Liz watched her leave as she dried her own hands. “Making new friends?” she asked sarcastically.

They walked out of the restroom not far behind Amy while Donna chuckled. “Apparently not.”

“I heard she got fired after the welfare thing,” Liz said quietly.

“She resigned,” Donna corrected, although everyone knew that wasn’t the truth. And Donna didn’t feel the least bit bad for her, trying to strong-arm the Bartlet administration the way she had. 

“Officially, maybe.”

“You do like the DC rumor mill, don’t you?”

Liz shrugged and smirked. “I don’t have time for soaps. Anyway, she’s working on the Stackhouse campaign now, so she’s fine.”

She’d heard that to and it boggled her mind. Why someone who knew Josh as well as she apparently knew him continually felt the need to go up against him was nearly beyond comprehension. Donna had learned in about three days of working for him that he was unstoppable. Whatever made Amy Gardner think she could or even should beat him at his own game was simply ridiculous and proved, to Donna at least, how wrong they were for each other. Of course, she doubted she’d ever meet the woman she thought was right for him.

Liz opened the doors to the main auditorium, the noise blasting out at them, and Donna started thinking of excuses she could use to leave. They pushed their way through the crowd towards Tom and Mark, who were conveniently not holding drinks in their hand, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amy again. She looked over and stopped walking when she saw her standing with Josh.

She couldn’t have stood there for more than a second before something hit her back and she looked behind her to see that Liz had walked directly into her, but it hadn’t taken longer than that to practically melt at the sight of Josh wearing jeans. In the six weeks she’d know him, she’d seen him in suits and tuxedos and even pajamas, but nothing compared to him in jeans. Those rare occasions had been like Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

Liz gave her a look and she started walking again, but kept an eye on Josh and Amy. They were talking, screaming really, but that could only be expected with the noise volume of the concert. Still, something was off. They weren’t touching at all, weren’t standing close to each other, and she couldn’t help the small twitch at the corner of her mouth. She and Josh had been more touchy feely than that and she’d only been his assistant.

Josh crossed his arms over his chest and Donna couldn’t help turning her head and watching closer. His face was hard, his stance defensive, and a few seconds later he walked away, leaving Amy standing on the main floor with an indignant, angry look on her face. Donna’s twitch turned into a full smile.

********** 

She woke up late the next morning, at least for her, and putzed around the apartment reading the paper before going out for her morning jog. But eventually she got hungry and it was either jog then or eat breakfast and wait two hours to jog, so she threw on a pair of navy shorts and a few tank tops and pulled her hair in to a pony tail as she walked down the steps. It was already hot outside, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. She didn’t know how people could live in Florida; the heat would simply be too much.

After stretching, she started on her jog, heading down the street and past the Baked and Wired before turning and ending up on the Georgetown campus several blocks over. With two weeks left before classes started, it was mostly empty, just a few random students scattered here and there, and if it hadn’t been for the heat, she would have thought it was nice. She left campus, running past the hospital and through part of Glover-Archbold park, then turned around and retraced her steps, heading for home.

Two blocks up from her apartment, she jogged up to a stop light, leaning over and putting her hands on her knees to take deep breaths while waiting for the light to turn red so she could cross the street. She looked up, wiping sweat from her forehead, and saw Josh walking up the steps to the Baked and Wired. He was wearing sandals and khaki shorts, and a Harvard t-shirt he used to wear late at night on bus trips, and suddenly the pounding of her heart had little to do with the exercise. Her assessment the night before had obviously not been quite accurate. She thought nothing compared to him in jeans…that was obviously because she’d never seen him in shorts.

He opened the door and walked inside carrying a paper as she fought the urge to call out to him. She was still staring at the doorway a minute later when the ‘walk’ sign lit up and it took several seconds to tear her gaze away from it and cross the street to head down the two blocks to her apartment. 

She started thinking about Amy Gardner then. Were they still together? Was he meeting her at the Baked and Wired? Had they been arguing the night before or had she read into what she’d seen? Were they still together or had had Amy’s lack of devotion to him ended things between them. Then she shook her head. It wasn’t healthy to imagine that Amy Gardner was the woman keeping her from Josh. That wasn’t the case.

She got back to her apartment and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail and she adjusted it, then went back into the living room and sat down on the couch, standing back up immediately. She paced back and forth telling herself no, then went back into the bathroom and looked at herself. It clearly wasn’t her best look, but it had a certain something to it that could be considered attractive. Sweaty could be sexy, right? Except her hair. Her hair looked less sexy and more ‘I Dream of Jeanie,’ so she pulled the pony tail out and re-did it lower on her head, purposely letting a few strands fall out of it and around her face. Then she went into the kitchen and grabbed ten dollars out of her purse before going back to check herself in the mirror one more time.

And then, even as she scolded herself, she was jogging back down the street towards the Baked and Wired, her heart pounding even more so than it had been before. About half way there she started mumbling to herself. “Stay calm, act casual. You’ve been out for a jog and stopped for coffee. Coffee? You don’t jog and then drink coffee; you’re going to make a fool of… water. You went out for a jog and you’re stopping for water. It’s a complete coincidence.” 

Suddenly she felt like a sixteen year old, she and her best friend Barb plotting a way to get Chris Baker to notice her, and she turned around and headed back towards her apartment. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t in Josh’s life anymore and she couldn’t continue pretending she was. He was with Amy Gardner, maybe. Maybe not, but maybe, and the last thing she wanted was to be that pathetic girl pawning over Josh while he dated a complete and utter shrew. Again.

The ‘maybe not’ repeated itself in her mind and she turned back around and headed back for the Baked and Wired again. Things were different now, she reasoned. She wasn’t pathetic and she wasn’t a girl. She was grown-up, intelligent, successful. If she wanted Josh Lyman, she should be able to go after Josh Lyman. 

She turned around again. She couldn’t go after Josh Lyman! What the hell was she thinking? He didn’t even know who she was. Except that he had called her Donna that Monday when she’d seen him at the dry cleaners, so maybe he had remembered her. But, maybe he just remembered it from the Shell station when she’d introduced herself. 

She turned around again, finally just stopping on the sidewalk and trying to think. This was crazy. Absolutely crazy. And she was still telling herself that as she walked to the corner and into the building.

**********

She walked up to the counter, trying not to look so obviously like she was in love with a man who used to be her boss who she left and then didn’t see for four years and then ran into at a Shell station, causing her to say the f-word in front of her mother and nearly have a nervous break down. She reminded herself…you’ve been for a jog and you’re stopping for water.

She ordered a bottle of water, handing the cashier her money, then quickly added on a container of strawberries. One could jog and then eat strawberries; it would show that she’s health conscience. She signed and rolled her eyes at herself. This was a bad, bad, bad idea.

The sports page covered his face, but she’d seen him come in, so she knew the khaki shorts and maroon t-shirt, and after once again telling herself that she wasn’t pathetic, she walked up to him and before losing her nerve said, “The Mets got a new manager.” 

He folded down the corner of the newspaper and gave her a quick glance, making her heart pound even harder. “I was just reading that.” 

“They’re having a good year. Only three games out of first.” She hoped her voice sounded stronger than it felt and that the smile on her face didn’t look nervous.

“Mmm…hmm.” He looked back at his paper, obviously not interested in talking to her. He probably thought she was some kind of lunatic stalker and she winced thinking he was right. What had she been thinking?

“They swept the Cubs this week,” she said, fighting the urge to leave. ‘Come on Josh,’ she thought. ‘It’s baseball. Work with me here.’

“I’ve missed their last few games actually. I’ve been busy with work.” 

His words were innocent enough, but his tone was anything but, and she started to turn to leave. She was not going to spend the rest of her life making herself miserable. She wasn’t. He was just a man; there were millions. But instead of leaving, she found herself pulling out a chair at the small table next to him and sitting down, opening her strawberries and pretending she hadn’t noticed his tone. Because there weren’t millions. Not for her, anyway. “Woodward’s been playing well,” she said with determination.

He put the corner of the paper down quickly. “What about Piazza?” 

She wanted to shout, pump her fist in the air, do a victory dance. She settled for unscrewing the cap of her water and smiling at him. “He threw out two players stealing second Thursday night." Thank goodness she’d been lonely enough without him to start watching his team play baseball.

He put the paper all the way down and leaned forward, his elbow on the table and his chin propped up on his hand. “Two?” She nodded. “How’s he batting?”

Piazza not really being, well…cute, he wasn’t really one of the players she paid attention to. “He didn’t get any hits. He might’ve been walked, I don’t remember,” she guessed.

“Last week he had two homeruns.”

“Woodward had three,” she said, baiting him into banter. It hadn’t taken her long to learn how to do it on the campaign, and she marveled in how easily it came back to her.

“Woodward’s no one.”

“Josh, Woodward’s the best player on the team!” It felt good saying his name in that playful way again.

“No way, Donna. He’s got potential, I’ll give him that. But he’s only what, 25 years old?”

“He’s a natural. Plus, he’s the shortstop.”

He smirked and she nearly fainted. “I’m aware of his position Donnatella. As for being the best player on the team, I’m gonna have to see that for myself.”

Donnatella. He was the only one who could ever make her feel like she was flying simply by saying her name. Yet another thing that hadn’t changed. And calling her Donnatella could mean only one thing; he remembered her. She wanted to scream, cry, throw her arms around his neck and tell him that she missed him, that she loved him, that she’d been miserable without him. She wanted to tell him how worried she’d been when he was shot, beg his forgiveness for not being there, thank him for living. 

Instead, she forced a chuckle and went for a line she hoped would get him to mention it. “Well, your assistant should be taping the games for you when you’re busy, then you’d see he’s the best on the team.”

And that was when it became clear. Not exactly then maybe, but as he frowned and jerked his eyes down toward the table, breathing harshly and avoiding her, it started to dawn on her. And then, when he stood up and threw his coffee cup away, and started to leave with his paper, still saying nothing, she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her in the Shell station. 

“Is something wrong?” she asked, almost waiting for him to look at her with hatred and betrayal in his eyes. Waiting for him to accuse her and yell at her and tell her to get the hell out of his life and stay out. 

“I’ve got to get to the office,” he said, still avoiding even the sight of her. He turned and headed towards the door. 

“Josh…”

But he kept going, and she was absolutely positive. He remembered her alright. He remembered that she left and he hated her for it.


	12. Stumbling into Life

She sat in the Baked and Wired, staring at the door he left through, for several minutes. Tears were on the verge but never quite fell and the ache he often brought to her heart wasn’t quite as strong as it had been in the past; it seemed she didn’t have the strength for either of those emotions anymore. She hated what she’d become since seeing him again. That the simple sight of him could lead her to both hope and feel hopeless, to laugh and cry, to wish for the future and wish to go back. She hated that no man could make her happy; that she didn’t let any get close enough to have a decent shot at it. And she wondered if after all that time, her heart had finally turned too hard for even him to penetrate. So after ten, fifteen minutes, maybe an hour of sitting there numb, she stood up and threw her uneaten container of strawberries away and walked slowly home. 

And for the next few weeks she threw herself into her work. She’d always been one of those people who could do that; she did it when Michael needed her to, then four years later when Josh needed her to, and then six weeks after that when she herself needed her to. It had been her cure over and over, her own version of alcohol, and so she kept telling herself that if she worked hard enough, put in enough hours, left time for nothing else, that she’d be ok.

But it was when she was trying to fall asleep at night, when she couldn’t differentiate between the memories and what her subconscious had made up over the years, that he invaded her mind and wouldn’t let go. So she’d lie there and stare at the blackness of the room, going over and over and over the few times they’d seen each other until it all ran together and she wasn’t so much hurt as she was confused.

And that in itself was confusing, because Josh had never confused her. It had always been so simple. She had loved him. Period. Every single bit of her had loved every single bit of him. His brilliance, his creativity, his body, his courage, his heart, his determinate, his clumsiness, his helplessness… there had been no part of him that she hadn’t wanted.

And he… she had always thought he loved her too. Just a little. Not the way she’d wanted him to, but… there had been something. Some part of him had taken her and made her better, and he had to have loved her a little bit to do that, she was sure of it. She had been a substitute for his sister, someone to watch over and protect and teach, and even as it broke her, it had comforted her and made her love him that much more. And it had been simple. Painfully, heart wrenchingly sad, but simple none-the-less.

Since seeing him again, however, she found that more than anything, she was confused. Not confused at how she felt; if anything she was more sure than ever that she would never stop loving him, that time hadn’t diminished that love even slightly. But his feelings, which had always been so clear to her, now only left her asking questions, and those questions had grown immensely since that day two weeks earlier at the Baked and Wired. 

She didn’t understand how he’d turned from hot to cold so quickly. If he hated her, and he certainly looked as though he hated her, as though he couldn’t stomach to be around for even a second longer, why had it felt so almost like old times just moments before? Why had he been smirking and calling her Donnatella if he wanted nothing at all to do with her? 

And what confused her even more is why that apparent hatred came as almost a relief. She couldn’t quite figure out why she’d rather him hate her than not remember her at all. Maybe it was because if he remembered, then perhaps she had meant something to him all those years ago and she could stop being confused about that. Or maybe it was because if he actually hated her, she could finally truly, honestly, completely let him go. Or maybe it was because of what her mother had told her on the phone later that afternoon; that it probably wasn’t hate at all. If anything, it was anger or hurt.

And so she’d lie in bed and over analyze it until she finally dozed off hours later than she’d gone to bed, still confused, still numb, and still wishing she could see him again.

**********

“I ran into Toby Ziegler this morning. He mentioned us holding this until February,” Congressman Allen said as they sat in his office with Congressman Wilson going over the fourth draft of 726.

“It’s September, it’s going into committee next week,” she said as she finished reading the section Mark Wilson had just marked up. 

He nodded. “They think we’ll have a better chance of pushing it through if the democrats win back the house in the November elections.” 

“And if we don’t?” Congressman Wilson asked.

“Then we’re in the same situation we’re in now. It might pass, but probably for less money than what we’re asking.”

Donna didn’t believe that, and she pulled out two packets of information she’d spent the last two weeks compiling to prove it, handing each of them a copy. Her personal life was a complete mess, a mess she couldn’t seem to quite get a hold of, but her professional life was easy. That she could control. That she could master. She could know 726 well enough to never be confused or helpless, and she would. Because she would have control over something. And so she’d compiled a list of each of the 435 members of the House, organized them by state and party affiliation, and then recorded their vote on every education and special needs bill they’d ever encountered so she’d know walking in how they’d vote. And just to be safe, she added any public statements they’d made regarding children with special needs or early education, and then included overall public opinion in their states on the same subjects. And finally, she listed the number of reported children with special needs in each member’s state and the allotment of money the bill requested for that state. “I think we can get the votes,” she said confidently. “407 members of the House are running for re-election. No one’s going to shut down an education bill this close to election.”

“The republicans…”

“Will say these children would benefit more from care than of education,” she finished. “At which point, both the Children’s Alliance and the National Children's Advocacy Consortium are prepared to back us as we ever so gently remind them that every child deserves an education.”

“Toby mentioned that it’d be a great bill to start the new session with.”

“If we can pass it this session, we can get it in next year’s budget.”

Congressman Allen nodded. “I’m meeting with Sam Seaborn on something else tomorrow. I’ll bring it up then.”

Donna started putting her things into her attaché case, hesitant to even bring him up after he ignored her that morning when she jogged past his car. But it was a children’s issue, and to Josh, children and education were top priorities. He’d know the right thing to do. “Josh Lyman is a large proponent of children and education. Try to get Mr. Seaborn to talk to him. This will be easier if we get the White House’s support and if Josh thinks we should wait, we probably should.”

Brett Allen looked at her for a few seconds. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” 

She nodded and stood up. “I have to go, I have class. But I’ll run these changes by our legal department and get back with you sometime tomorrow.”

Mark Wilson smiled at her. “Thanks Donna.”

“I’ll let you know what I find out with Sam,” Congressman Allen said. 

“Thank you.” She smiled at them and left Congressman Allen’s office, glancing both ways down the hallway before turning to her left and heading towards the north doors. She found that lately she did that, kept an eye out for Josh. She told herself it was so she could avoid horrible confrontations like at the Baked and Wired, but she didn’t really believe it. She still ached to be around him, even knowing it would most likely hurt in the end. 

She walked out and started heading the four blocks north to the Law Campus, thankful that all three of her classes were on the smaller more central campus. It was only her first week and already it was saving her time.

“Donna?”

She stopped walking and turned her head. 

“Donna, right?”

Her eyes widened and a smile lit her face. “Margaret?” Margaret, the one friend she’d had during the campaign other than Josh, stood about ten feet from her with a woman who looked to be in her forties.

“Hi. Wow, hi,” she said as they walked closer.

Donna nodded. “It’s great to see you!”

“You too. I didn’t know you…” she stopped talking and they stood there awkwardly for a second before Donna finally just stepped forward and hugged her. “Do you live here in town?” Margaret asked as she hugged her back.

“Yes.” She pulled back and looked at her. “How are you?”

“Great! I’m great. I just… I’m…” she held up some papers her hand. “I’m delivering these for Leo.”

Donna smiled wider. “You’re still with the administration then.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ve been with Leo for ages.” She looked over at the woman she was with and then back at Donna. “April, this is Donna….”

“Moss.”

“Yes, sorry. Donna Moss. She volunteered for the first campaign for a while. She worked with Josh. Donna, this is April Messick, one of Josh’s assistants.”

Donna stared in shock for a second at the woman who now probably ran Josh’s life. She was older, in her forties probably, was heavy-set with light brown hair and looked like she ran a tight ship. “That’s great,” she said with a smile as she shook her hand. “He’s wonderful to work with, isn’t he?”

The woman chuckled as if Donna was kidding. “He… has his moments.” 

“Ahh…” She looked back at Margaret with raised eyebrows. Who the hell was this chick?

“Does Josh know you’re in town? He was like a boy who lost his puppy after you left. You should…”

“He does know, actually,” she said, cutting her off. She couldn’t get into things with Margaret. Probably not anywhere, but certainly not on the street a block from the Capitol building. “Margaret, I have to go. I’m so sorry, I’m late for something. But we should… I’d love to get together for coffee or…”

“Yes, absolutely. Call me at the office?”

Donna nodded and started to walk away. “Absolutely. It was great seeing you.” She turned then and walked quickly the rest of the way to campus, so preoccupied with whether or not Margaret or that April woman would mention seeing her to Josh that she’d been sitting in class for almost a half an hour before something Margaret said registered with her. ‘He was like a boy who lost his puppy after you left.’ She sighed and closed her eyes, confused.

**********

She left the law library that Sunday night a few minutes before eight. The semester, one week old, was already shaping up to be a tough one, and she’d really hoped to stay until the library closed at ten, but had put off grocery shopping for too long. She packed her things up and walked to her car, turning on the radio to a retro station to give herself a break from the case review she’d just been working on, and headed to the Safeway in Georgetown. 

She was looking at watermelons when he walked into the produce section. She could see him staring at her out of the corner of her eye, and like every time before, she could feel her pulse beginning to race. 

She tried not to look directly at him, tried to pretend she didn’t know he was there and wait for him to keep walking and leave the produce section, but he didn’t keep walking. He stopped, standing just a few feet from her in front of the bananas, and she was confused again. Because, if he didn’t want to talk to her, why had he stopped in an otherwise completely empty section of the store in front of a fruit that he hated, and why was he still watching her?

She took a deep breath and looked up at him with what she hoped was a neutral smile, and like he was caught, he looked quickly down at the bananas in front of him. And later, she’d be thankful that she remembered their conversation about bananas and cantaloupe, because it was watching him put a few into a bag that made her think he was as unsure about this as she was. And that’s what gave her the courage to speak. “So, we must live near each other.”

He paused for a second, as if he was surprised to hear her voice, then put his bananas in his basket and started picking up nectarines. “Guess so.”

She couldn’t remember by then which watermelons had sounded the most ripe, she couldn’t hear hollow over the pounding of her chest, but she couldn’t stand there forever, so she picked one up and put it into her cart. And then the others began slipping and rolling down the pile like an avalanche, and she was grabbing them and holding them and trying to keep from making a huge mess in front of him. She could feel her cheeks beginning to flush and she was twisted around and she really wished she could crawl into a hole and hide. She glanced around for anyone, anyone at all who could help her, but he was the only one there, so she finally looked over at him. “Could you uhh…help me here?” she asked in humiliation. He continued standing where he was, a nectarine in his hand, staring at her, and she just knew that if one went, they’d all follow. “Josh, I’m about to make a huge mess here.”

He paused for another second before putting his basket on the floor and walking up her. “Good catch,” he said, and had she not been looking down in utter humiliation, she would’ve looked to see if he was smirking at her. But he took the watermelons from her one by one and put them back on the stack. 

When there was only one left, she stood upright holding it. “Thank you,” she said, still looking for that hole to crawl into.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly as he took the last watermelon from her hands. His fingers touched hers and it might as well have been lightening, because she hadn’t felt a spark like that in more than four years. She looked up at him but he simply took the watermelon and put it in his basket, on top of the bananas.

He wasn’t looking at her, and she wondered if he was going to leave. “You didn’t knock on it,” she said, a last ditch effort to get him to talk to her.

He looked at her as he picked up the basket. “Knock on it?”

She took a tentative step closer. “To see if it’s hollow,” she said quietly.

“Hollow?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

She nodded and knocked on his watermelon, hoping she was keeping her voice light. “They sound hollow when they’re ripe.”

“Ah…kay.”

She remembered that voice of his; that ‘you’re completely nuts, but I’m going to go along with you on this anyway’ voice she’d always pretended to be annoyed with, and she looked up at him and smiled. “They do!”

“Where do you get this stuff?”

“It’s well known stuff, Josh,” she said before walking back to her cart.

“If you say so.” He smirked at her and started walking, and she thought she’d let him go, count this run-in as a success and say goodbye before she did anything else humiliating. But he was walking slowly, as if he was waiting for her, so she pushed her cart up next to him and they walked into the bread section together. 

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as they walked. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and his hand gripped his basket, holding the weight of it and showing off the muscles in his forearms, and she thought back to the first time she realized they were a turn on for her. She’d been sitting in a hotel room watching him twirl a pen and run his fingers through his hair, and she’d sat across from him with an innocent look on her face thinking of how strong he would be holding himself up over her. 

“You don’t live in Wisconsin anymore.” 

She tore her gaze from his arm as a loaf of bread landed in the basket he was holding. She took it out and replaced it with a whole wheat loaf, not realizing what she'd done until reaching for a loaf of the same for herself. Her mouth dropped open in horror, and she glanced at him to guage his reaction. He had that wide-eyed look of his that he used to get when she’d done something crazy that humored him. “I moved here two years ago, but I just moved to Georgetown in July; a few weeks before I saw you at the Shell on P Street.” 

They walked out of the bread section, him still with the bread she’d given him, and headed towards the deli. “Why DC?” 

“Law school,” she said tentatively as she avoided eye contact with him, not having realized until just that moment how much it meant to her that he know she’d gone back to school. They walked up to the deli and a woman behind the counter looked at her. “A half-pound of turkey breast. Shaved, please,” she said, trying to act casual but worried that between the watermelon fiasco, the bread switch, and talk of law school, she might actually vomit from nerves.

“Law school?” 

She looked at him and put on a brave smile. “I just started my last year on Monday.”

He looked down at the t-shirt she was wearing. “At Georgetown?”

“Yep.” And then he smiled at her. Not a smirk or a fake, plastic smile, but a real smile that brought out his dimples, and she actually had to hold her hand down to her side to keep from reaching out and tracing them with her fingers, because watermelons and bread aside, she couldn’t assault him in Safeway.

“What type of law?”

She was still staring at his dimples, brought out just for her, and it took her a few seconds to answer. Of everything she’d missed about him, they might have topped the list. “Child advocacy.”

His eyes widened a bit. “Child advocacy?”

The woman behind the counter held her turkey out to her and she turned and took it, still looking at her as she quietly said, “Someone once told me children needed to be our top priority.” 

She wondered if he remembered telling her that, if he’d be proud of her. She’d always loved it when he looked at her with pride in his eyes; it had always made her want to earn that look again. But she worried to, that by mentioning it, he’d revert back to the shell he’d gone into at the Baked and Wired when she mentioned their time together. The deli worker asked if she could help him, but he didn’t answer, and she bit her lip and slowly turned and looked at him. His smile got even bigger and she couldn’t help matching it.

“Sir?” 

He looked at the woman in the deli before looking back at her with a childlike grin on his face. “Same thing.”

They left the deli and started slowly up and down the aisles of the grocery store, barely paying the food any attention as conversation went from awkward to easy in a matter of minutes. “So, how do you like DC?” he asked as she put some asparagus and green beans into her cart. 

She looked up at him as he pulled down two cans of asparagus and added them to his basket. He’d done that three or four times, adding to his basket whatever she’d added to her cart, and it was hard not to tease him about it. “It’s hot here.”

He chuckled at her and put his basket on top of her cart, then started pushing it further down the aisle while she stared at him, remembering how he used to take her suitcase for her when she was tired. “It’s the first week of September.”

She bit back her smile and took a few quick steps to catch up with him. “Still, I feel like I’m in the core of the earth.”

“The core of the earth?”

She shrugged and smiled slyly at him as he pushed her cart down the next aisle while she walked along beside him. “I’m just saying, it’s hot.”

“Fine,” he said, smiling at her. “Disregarding the core of the earth like heat, how do you like DC?”

“I love it,” she said, nodding slightly to herself. “And you? What have you been up to?” She itched to add, ‘And are you dating Amy Gardner?’ but thought better of it.

He chuckled. “We’re in the middle of the campaign. That’s what I’ve been up to. I don’t have time for anything else.”

They passed the condiments and without stopping, she picked up two bottles of spicy mustard, putting one in his basket and the other in her cart. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s…” he stopped walking with the cart and looked at the mustard for a second. “What about mayonnaise?”

Mayonnaise? Who the hell was letting him eat mayonnaise? “Mustard’s better for you.”

He raised his eyebrows and after a second, started walking again. “The campaign’s going pretty well. The debate’s in a few weeks, so we’ve been working on that.” He looked over at her. “And we’re still trying to get people past the MS thing.”

“You mean the possibility that the president might someday have a health problem like every president who’s come before him and every president who’ll come after him? People are still struggling with that?”

He smiled and she thought he looked… almost relieved. “I guess since his has been diagnosed and all.”

“Still, he’s fine.” She looked over at him. “He is fine, isn’t he?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then…” she shrugged and trailed off as they rounded the corner.

When they finished shopping and paying, he pushed the cart outside to her car and stood there as she put her bags into the backseat. When she closed the door and turned around, he glanced quickly at the ground before looking off towards a car that she assumed was his. “Thanks for pushing my cart,” she said quietly.

He looked back at her and grinned. “You’re welcome.” 

It was quiet then, the first awkward pause they’d had that night, and she wanted nothing more than to give him her phone number, invite him out for a late dinner, test out the strength of his arms. “I guess I’ll…” she gestured towards her car.

“Yeah,” he said softly, staring at her with warm brown eyes. “Yeah,” he said again. “I should get home. I have some things to go over for work tomorrow.”

“Kay.”

“I guess I’ll… see you around then.”

She nodded. “I hope so.”

He paused and looked at her for a second, and she wondered if she’d been too forward. But then he smiled and nodded, the air lifting immediately. “Yeah, me too.” He opened her door and held it for her while she sat down inside, then said goodnight and closed it behind her, watching her put her keys in the ignition and drive off.


	13. Stumbling into Life

“Something’s going on with you.”

Donna looked up from her desk and saw Liz standing in her doorway eating a Twix bar and looking at her strangely. “What?”

“You were humming,” she said with a full mouth.

She was humming? Really? She hadn’t even noticed. “So… something’s going on with me because I was humming?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m having lunch in…” she looked down at her watch and promptly stood up. “Crap. Ten minutes.”

Liz watched with an amused look on her face as Donna stood and started shoving things into her attaché case. “No, it’s something else.”

Donna breezed past her with a chuckle. “Well, if you figure it out, let me know.”

Liz followed her down the hall. “You smile a lot.”

Donna smiled. “Well, I have a beautiful smile.”

“But you use it more now.”

“Ahh… you’ve caught me.”

“Yes.”

“I’m running a little late here, oh short one.”

Liz took another bite of her Twix bar. “And you tease more. You’re… might I say… teasy?”

“Teasy?”

“Yes.”

“So I hum and smile and I’m teasy, which isn’t actually a word.”

“It suits our purpose either way.”

“Either way? There is no way. It isn’t a word.”

“Whatever. You’re going to bring me back some cheesecake, right?” Liz asked as they reached the elevator.

“What?” Donna asked, hitting the down arrow and looking at her watch again. “No.”

“Donna,” Liz said, gripping her arm as if her life depended on it. “I’m a pregnant woman. I have cravings.”

“So you need me to order a piece of cheesecake to go while I’m in the middle of a meeting with two United States Congressman?” she asked, hitting the down arrow again and mumbling ‘come on.’

“Yes.”

“Oh good Lord.”

“Cravings, Donna.”

Donna looked at her skeptically. “You found out you were pregnant three days ago. You already have cravings?”

“No, I’ve always had them. But this is the first time I can succumb to them,” she said with an innocent smile.

The elevator doors opened and Donna stepped inside. “I’m not bringing you cheesecake,” she said as she hit the ‘lobby’ button.

“The baby’s only 3 days old and already you’re not spoiling it?” Liz said as the door closed. “Some godmother you’re going to make!” she yelled after it was closed.

Donna shook her head and smiled as the elevator went down the nine floors to the lobby. She’d never met anyone as excited about being pregnant as Liz was; and not just the baby, but the pregnancy itself. And Tom wasn’t much better; they’d known for three days and he’d already bought a camcorder and a car seat. The elevator stopped and she stepped out and around a few people waiting for it, then walked quickly through the lobby and outside to catch a cab. It was only about a fifteen minute walk to the restaurant, and with the heat finally letting up a bit she would’ve preferred to walk, but even taking a cab, she was going to be a few minutes late.

She lucked out with a cab and had just told the driver the name of the restaurant when her cell phone started ringing. She looked at the caller id and saw Mark Wilson’s name. Crap. “Congressman,” she answered cheerfully. 

“Donna, I’m running a bit late for lunch. I got held up in a meeting.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “So did I, I’m on my way there now.”

He chuckled. “I bet Brett’s enjoying himself alone at the restaurant.”

“I’m sure,” she said smiling. “I should be there in two or three minutes.”

“I’ll probably be ten.”

“That’s fine, we’ll see you there.” She hung up and leaned back; it was the first quiet moment she’d had all day.

By the time the cab dropped her off, she was five minutes late. She walked inside and a host took her to a table where Congressman Allen was already sitting. He smiled as she slid into the booth opposite him. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Congressman.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a smile. “Mark’s not here either.”

“He called. He’s running late himself. He should be here in a few minutes.” A busboy came and to fill her water glass and she asked for lemon. 

“The Education Committee loves this bill, Donna. You’ve done a wonderful job on it.”

She smiled, reminding herself not to do so shyly. This was her circle now, she belonged. It was important to remember that. “Thank you, Sir. We’re pleased with it ourselves.”

“I’m betting that after tomorrow, we’ll be able to start courting votes. This will be your first time at that, yes?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” She glanced around the restaurant then and her eyes stopped on Josh, standing in the walkway next to a table. Her face lit up and she somehow resisted holding a hand up to get his attention. 

The congressman chuckled. “Yeah? Talk to me in three weeks. We’ll see how you feel about it then.”

She looked back at him. “If you’ll excuse me, Congressman. I just need…” she put her napkin down and started to get up.

“Of course.” 

“I’ll be right back,” she said before looking back at Josh and smiling. He seemed to be looking at her, but hadn’t acknowledged her, and she felt her nerves getting the best of her as she walked towards him.

“Hi,” she said softly. He didn’t reply and her heart sank for just a second before she noticed that he seemed… off somehow. Not like he was ignoring her, but like he didn’t even see her there. She waited a few seconds, then glanced at the table he was standing next to. Sam Seaborn was sitting there looking at her and she said hello.

Sam offered his hand and she shook it, still watching Josh standing there silently. “Hi. Donna, right?” Sam asked her.

“Umm… yes. I used to…” she trailed off. “Josh,” she said as softly as possible, hoping no one would hear her but him. “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” he finally said in a tight voice, looking at something over her shoulder. 

Sam stood up quickly. “So Donna, what brings you to DC?” he asked in an overly cheerful voice. 

She looked at him, a bit peeved, and bit her tongue. Couldn’t he tell that something was wrong with Josh? “I… uh…” she looked back at Josh. “I work for the Children’s Rights Council here in town,” she said, still trying to read Josh.

And then Josh looked at her, the first time he’d met her eyes since she’d seen him that afternoon. His were dark and almost glasslike and it gave her chills. “What?” he asked as though he’d just arrived.

She hesitated for a few seconds before answering him. “I work for the Children’s Rights Council,” she repeated slowly, still worried about him. He looked… she couldn’t quite place it, but something wasn’t right. His face was pale, he was breathing heavy enough for her to notice it, and she thought maybe he was about to pass out.

“You do?” he asked before glancing behind her again. She wondered what or who he was looking at; somebody was obviously upsetting him and she briefly wondered if Amy Gardner was there. 

“Yes.” She looked back at Sam, trying to read the situation, but he seemed clueless as to what was happening. “I… I actually have a meeting with you tomorrow.”

“You do?” Sam asked.

Her mind was screaming not to, but she found herself lightly wrapping her hand around Josh’s arm. His head didn’t move, but his eyes flickered down to her hand before meeting her eyes again and the muscles in his forearms twitched. “Yes,” she said to Sam. “We’re working on 726 with Congressmen Allen and Wilson. In fact, we’re meeting now to discuss a few last minute things before tomorrow.”

“You are?” Josh asked, almost as if he was confused about something.

“Well,” she tried to say casually. “We are if Congressman Wilson ever shows up. He’s stuck in a meeting.” She turned fully to him and leaned in. “Are you sure you’re ok?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I…” He shook his head and half-smiled, his face still pale but his breathing a bit better. “I wasn’t feeling well, but it’s passed. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he said in a reassuring voice she remembered. 

She looked back at the table as Congressman Wilson slid into her spot, then looked apologetically at Josh. “I guess I better get back,” she said reluctantly.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

She started to turn around before remembering Sam standing there. “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, Mr. Seaborne.”

“Sam,” he said, shaking her hand again.

She nodded and turned back to Josh. “Maybe I’ll see you there,” she questioned, fighting the urge she had to bite her lip. She thought she’d grown out of that habit, but he made her feel uncertain and shy and she found herself falling back into the routine.

He nodded and spoke in a stronger voice. “Come early. I’ll give you a tour.”

Her eyes opened wider as the little girl inside of her squealed. She could feel her heart rate speed up and her cheeks flush and she was sure she was wearing her heart on her sleeve. “Really?” she asked, her smile lighting her face.

“Sure,” he said, smiling back.

She fought the urge to lean in and hug him, and started backing away. “I’ll bring breakfast.” He nodded at her and sat down, watching her leave and she took a few more steps backwards before almost tripping, then turned around and walked to her table.

**********

“I need your help,” she said instead of hello when Liz answered the phone.

“Ok…” Liz drew out. “What’s up?”

“I have a meeting in the morning at the White House,” she said, standing in front of her open closet.

“Yes…” 

She looked behind her at her bed, four or five outfits thrown on top of it. “I don’t know what to wear.”

“You don’t know what to wear…” Liz drew out, chuckling.

She plopped down on the end of her bed. “This is not the time for laughter.”

“Donna, you have very nice business suits. Wear one.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth quickly even though Liz couldn’t see it. “I need to look feminine, not power hungry.”

It was silent for a second. “You’re going into a meeting in the White House, trying to garner support for your bill, but you don’t want to look powerful.”

Donna stood and started pacing. “I don’t want to look un-powerful either.”

“I see.”

“You do?” she asked. Maybe she hadn’t lost it quite as much as she thought she had.

“No.” Then again… 

“Liz!” she shouted, stomping her foot like a six year-old. She could hear Liz laughing through the phone. “Did I or did I not bring you cheesecake back from Morton’s.”

“You did, but that was really for the baby.”

“Elizabeth!”

“Sorry. Sorry. Ok.” The line went quiet for several seconds. “You want smart feminine elegance.”

“Yes! Do I have that?”

“Not really.”

“Liz!”

Liz laughed again. “Does this have anything to do with the humming and the smiling and the teasing?”

“Yes…no! No, of course not. This is… I have a meeting in the White House tomorrow.”

“That you don’t want to look professional for.”

“Right.” 

It was quiet for a second. “Do you have the hots for Brett Allen?”

“No, yuck.”

“Mark Wilson? Cause he’s married.”

“There are no hots. Can we get back to the task at hand?”

Liz sighed. “A suit without the jacket and a light blouse. Simple jewelry, heels that show off your legs and wear your hair down, it makes you look younger.”

“That’ll work?”

“Yes. The President’s married too you know.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

********** 

The cab driver dropped her off at a corner a few blocks from the White House and she thanked him and got out, gripping the Baked and Wired bag in her hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She’d gotten little to no sleep the night before, her stomach churning and her mind wandering. At the restaurant, something had been wrong with him and she found herself wondering what it was. He’d looked better by the time she went back to her own table, where she pretended to listen to the congressmen talk about committee recommendations for 726, but she’d glanced over at him no less than fifty times in the twenty minutes before he and Sam left, and he still hadn’t looked quite right.

She wondered if he was sick, which brought about even more worry. She didn’t know much about his health, especially after the shooting, and she had to fight to not think the worst after seeing his pale face and hearing his shallow breathing. What if his heart wasn’t well? What if the surgery had left him weak? What if he had medication he was supposed to take or a diet and exercise regime he was supposed to follow? Did his assistant help with those things? Did Amy Gardner?

Then her mind shifted and she couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that it had been her that had upset him. She tried to tell herself how presumptuous that was of her. That he had a million other things in his life that could’ve upset him, that thinking of her was probably very low on his list, but the thought still sat with her. 

She’d given up the completely implausible belief that she’d never hurt him. She’d spent four years denying that to herself, telling herself that her leaving had been an inconvenience to him and nothing more, and at the time, she needed to believe it because she couldn’t take both the broken heart and the guilt. But what had happened in the Baked and Wired had cracked that illusion she’d created, and Margaret’s words to her a few weeks later combined with his tentative, almost reluctant behavior at the Safeway had shattered it. She had hurt him. Hurt him to save herself, and she’d been fooling herself to believe otherwise.

She walked down the sidewalk towards the front gate at the White House, taking deep breaths and telling herself to stop focusing on the worst. It couldn’t have been her who upset him the day before. It couldn’t have been, because he’d invited her to spend time with him that morning, and he wouldn’t have done that if he wanted nothing to do with her. And while she knew he didn’t want the same things from her that she wanted from him, anything would be enough. She’d eagerly give whatever he asked for.

She gave her name and id to the guard at the front gate, then stepped through when it opened slowly for her, and her focus suddenly shifted. She was at the White House. The White House. She had a meeting at the White House. It was a strange thought and she let out a long breath and smiled. Sometimes she forgot how far she’d come since working as a waitress and a file clerk, supporting a man who didn’t really know her. Of course, how could she have expected him to, she didn’t even know herself back then. 

Her name was checked and her bags gone through before she was allowed to walk up the driveway and into the building, where the bags were then put through an x-ray machine while she walked through a metal detector. And then she was inside the White House, standing in the lobby and looking up at high ceilings as people rushed by paying her no attention. 

“Ms. Moss?” she heard a minute later.

She brought her head down and found herself looking at Josh’s assistant, April something. She wasn’t sure she liked her, but she smiled anyway. “April. Hi.”

April smiled politely at her. “Josh said you’d be here this morning. I’ll take you back.”

“Thanks,” Donna said, following her through the halls past several offices and into a section of the building with several glass partitions. A phone started ringing and April walked up to a desk and answered it while pointing to an office at the end of the hall.

Donna nodded and walked up to the open door slowly. She peeked inside and started to knock when she saw Josh sitting at his desk, but something stopped her and she found herself watching him instead. His elbows were on his desk and his head was down. There was a pen in his right hand and the fingers on his left hand were raking through his hair. She couldn’t help smiling. It was like looking into the past; he could’ve been sitting at his desk in that make-shift office in Manchester. 

“April!”

“I see you’re still not a fan of the intercom,” she said with a grin.

He looked up, almost surprised, and smiled widely at her, his dimples coming out, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he looked unbelievably better than he had the day before. He paused for a few seconds and then stood up and rounded his desk. “How long have you been standing there?”

She shrugged. “Just for a minute,” she said softly. “Are you making the world a better place?” 

He looked back at his desk. “I’m trying to make college affordable.”

Her smile widened. “You are making the world a better place.” 

He looked at her, their eyes locking for several seconds, until someone cleared their throat and Josh looked up. “What?”

“You called me,” April said from behind her.

“Oh. Yeah, it’s nothing. Hold my calls.” He tilted his head for Donna to come inside and closed the door behind them, then started taking things off a chair in his office while she looked around. He was as messy as ever, and she found that it comforted her. “You brought breakfast.”

“Fruit salad and bagels,” she said nervously as she realized that with the door closed, they were alone. Really truly alone for the first time in years. 

He looked at her, their eyes locking again, and she bit her lip nervously as the air grew awkward. After a few seconds, he pulled the chair up to his desk and motioned for her to sit down, then took the bag from her and sat it on his desk. “Have a seat.” 

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as nervous to him as it did to her. She looked away from him and to a few pictures on the wall that she’d never seen, wondering if the little boy in one of them was him as a child. The dimples certainly matched.

“Nah,” he said, bringing a few paper plates some orange juice over to his desk. “College tax credits can wait a few minutes.” 

She reluctantly tore her eyes from the picture and started pulling things out of the bag, checking to make sure she put the correct container of fruit down on his side of the desk. She put a bagel and a packet of light cream cheese with it and looked inside for forks. “They forgot forks,” she said rather lamely with her face down in the bag.

He raised his eyebrows, then turned and grabbed a few out of a small room attached to his office. Then he sat down and opened his fruit salad and there was another awkward pause as he ate some and she picked nervously at her bagel. “Mine doesn’t have cantaloupe,” he said quietly and she nearly cheered.

“Well,” she said, trying to laugh without sounding like an idiot. “I know how you are about eating things with the word ‘mush’ in them.” 

He looked up at her and smiled and she fought the urge to cheer again. “Not to mention the fact that it’s orange.”

“Right,” she said, her smile growing as the awkwardness faded.

He picked up his bagel, using a plastic knife to cut it, and started spreading cream cheese on it. “So, you work for the Children’s Rights Council.”

“Yes, for the last two years.”

He kept spreading cream cheese, but looked up at her. “And you’re in law school.” 

She nodded and smiled. “Yes, learning to punish the guilty and taint a jury.”

“Ahh, the important things.” They both laughed and he tilted his head. “I’ve worked on legislation with the Council before. Why haven’t I seen you?” 

She swallowed a bite of bagel and wiped her mouth. “I worked in programs until May. A spot became available in the legal/legislative department and they offered it to me with the understanding that it’s temporary until I finish law school. This is actually my first bill.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you nervous?”

She wondered if he could tell or if he was guessing. “Josh, I’m a professional,” she admonished teasingly.

“So, yes?”

She tried to look calm and collected, but couldn’t fake it well enough and looked at the desk. “Incredibly nervous.”

“Don’t be, Sam said it looks good.”

She looked up at him. “Have you read it?” she asked eagerly.

He shook his head and said no, and she tried not to let her disappointment show. “But I skimmed through it this morning. I thought you did a great job.” 

“Really?” she asked with a big smile. He nodded and she bit her lip shyly.

 

********** 

After they finished their breakfast he took her on the promised tour of the White House. They went to the pressroom first, where they saw Toby Ziegler. She was surprised that he recognized her immediately; smiling and asking her if she wanted to come work for him as he’d done several times while she worked for Josh. 

When they left the pressroom, they started down the hallway and her knees nearly buckled when she felt Josh’s hand on her lower back. It was the first time he’d intentionally touched her since shaking her hand in the Shell station, and the feel of his warm hand through her shirt combined with the subtle security it offered left her breathless and wanting to kiss Liz for suggesting that Donna not wear a suit jacket. It took a concentrated effort to continue walking as he led her into a dark room with a couch and several chairs.

“This is the Mural Room,” he said, dropping his hand from her back.

She took possibly her first breath since leaving the pressroom and looked around the room at the tacky wallpaper. “I can see that.”

He laughed at her. “You can get this for your living room, you know.”

“Oh,” she said innocently. “I already have it.”

He looked at her for a second. “Still very witty, I see.”

“Naturally,” she said, smiling slyly at him before turning from him and walking around the room to catch her breath. She stopped at a set of glass doors and looked out into what she guessed was the back yard. 

He came up behind her, standing close enough that she could feel the heat from his chest through his shirt, and she felt dizzy. She wasn’t going to make it out of the White House without fainting, she was sure of it. Then he reached around her, his chest brushing against her arm, and opened the door, and she thought she might not even make it out of the room. It took her several seconds to summon the strength to walk outside, and when she did, she was standing in what had to be the Rose Garden, a large grassy area with a perfectly manicured lawn, and a white gazebo with white patio furniture nearby.

“We could’ve eaten breakfast out here probably,” he said. “I didn’t…” 

She looked back at him and smiled. “I liked eating in your office. It was like…” She trailed off, not wanting to push the past with him. 

“Yeah,” he said softly with a small smile. “Next time maybe.”

She was looking at him when he said it, and she wished she hadn’t been, because at the mention of a future breakfast, her face lit with a huge smile as the ten year-old in her started imagining not only a Rose Garden breakfast, but a Rose Garden wedding.

They went back inside then and he took her to the Mess and the Roosevelt room, then through what he called the Communications Bullpen, showing her Toby’s and then Sam’s office. Neither was in, but he introduced her to a woman named Bonnie and another named Ginger, both times as Donna Moss, with the Children’s Rights Council. And each time, she looked at him and instead of looking at who he was introducing her to, he was watching her with a look in his eyes that she thought might have been pride.

Then they were in an office with two desks. “Hey Debbie,” he said to a woman at one of the desks.

“Josh…”

“Is he in?”

“No, he’s in the Sit Room.”

“Debbie, this is Donna Moss.” 

The woman looked up and smiled at Donna. “Nice to meet you Miss Moss.”

Donna smiled back. “You too.”

“I’m just gonna show her around,” he said, motioning towards a door.

“Don’t steal anything off his desk,” the woman said, making Donna chuckle.

He shook his head put his hand on Donna’s back again, opening the door and guiding her inside. She stopped suddenly and sucked in a deep breath. “This…” she trailed off. She was in the Oval Office. Of the President. Of the United States. 

He laughed. “Yeah.”

She took another step inside and looked at the President’s desk, arranged neatly, then over at two couches and two chairs. And then it hit her; Josh was an advisor to the President in this room every day. She’d always known he was brilliant, but somehow, looking around this room, it hit home more than maybe ever before. She turned slowly and smiled at him. “You work here,” she breathed out.

He smirked. “This isn’t my office.”

“But you do important work here.” He shrugged and she turned back around and looked around the room. “He’s very good,” she said a minute later, her back still to him.

“Yes.”

“That’s due in large part to you.”

********** 

 

She left the Roosevelt Room with Congressmen Wilson and Allen and Sam Seaborn, who was as nice and emphatic as she remembered him being, and debated whether or not she should stop by and say goodbye to Josh. Then she debated on whether or not she’d be able to find his office again. The congressmen said a quick goodbye and walked down that hallway and she bit her lip. She should probably go with them.

“How’d it go?”

A smile lit her face when she heard his voice and she turned around as he walked towards her. “Hi,” she said, telling herself that jumping directly out of her skin right there in the White House wouldn’t go over well. “It went great. We’re going to start getting the votes for it. Sam’s going to help.”

He nodded and looked up at Sam. “Where are you going to start?”

The three of them started walking, and she wondered where they were going. “Hamilton, Jent, Dear. Maybe Walker,” Sam said as they went down a hallway and into the lobby she’d come in through.

Josh nodded and looked at Donna. “Walker’s not as tough as he looks.”

She smiled and nodded as Sam turned around and started talking to a woman she’d met earlier named Cathy. There was a clock on the wall and she saw that her ‘Child Immigration and National Law’ class started in twenty minutes. “Thanks for breakfast,” she said as she glanced towards the door.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You brought it.” 

She was tempted to correct him, tell him she meant for his time. For the tour and his hand on her back and the way he’d bragged about her to Toby. For smiling at her and teasing her and making her feel more alive than she’d felt in years. Instead, she bit her lip and said, “Right.”

“How about I buy you lunch in return?”

Her eyes widened and for a second she thought she’d just skip ‘Child Immigration and National Law.’ The kids could wait a day. But then she remembered that she had a test. “I can’t,” she said quietly.

“Ok,” he said, his voice and facial expression shutting her out immediately. It was a huge change in his demeanor; he looked away from her towards the wall, his shoulders stiff and his arms crossed over his chest, and she spoke quickly to make him understand. 

“I wish I could. I…”

“That’s fine,” he said cutting her off. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, still refusing to look at her, hitting home to her once again that she’d hurt him. It had been a long time ago, and had nearly killed her, but that didn’t take it away.

“I have class in twenty minutes. I have a test. I can’t…”

He looked back at her then, his stance relaxing, and smiled slightly. “Then you better get going,” he said, walking her the rest of the way to the door.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly hating her class and her professor and college in general. He opened the door for her and she stepped outside, then turned back to say goodbye, and instead said, “What about Saturday?”

He smiled then, flashing his dimples and tempting her to read something into it that couldn’t be the case and she couldn’t emotionally afford to read. “I’ll call your office.”

She smiled then too, maybe wider than she ever had before. Because whether she could afford to or not, she had read into it; and what she read was that she had a date with Josh Lyman.


	14. Stumbling into Life

“I’m signing up for a cooking class,” Liz said, walking into her office and sitting down. “You should take it with me.”

Donna cracked a smile at her. “And when exactly do I have the time for that? Should I drop a class or two to fit it in?”

“Valid point,” she said, pulling a gummy worm out of a Ziploc bag and chewing on it.

Donna closed the file on her desk and leaned back in her chair. “Why are you taking a cooking class?”

Liz got a huge smile on her face and put her hand on her completely flat stomach. “Because I can’t cook for crap and I’m going to be a mother in eight and a half months.”

Donna laughed and shook her head. Five days and she was Mrs. Cleaver. Her intercom beeped and she hit the button. “Yes?” she asked Marissa at the front desk.

“You have a call on line one. It’s Josh Lyman.”

Her eyes went wide. Josh was calling her. About lunch the next day. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. “Ok, thanks.” She looked down and adjusted her suit jacket as if he’d be able to see her while they spoke, then took a deep breath and stared at the blinking button on the phone. “Friendly but not too excited,” she mumbled to herself before taking one more deep breath and picking up. “Hi!” she said, cringing at how excited she sounded.

“Hi.” He didn’t say anything else to her and a second later she heard him talking to someone in the background but couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Sorry, we’ve got… sorry.”

“That’s alright,” she said, twisting the phone cord in her hand. “What’s up?”

He sighed into the phone. “I have to cancel lunch tomorrow.”

She felt her heart lurch and closed her eyes. “Oh,” she said as bravely as possible. “Ok.”

“There’s a tropical storm hitting the gulf coast in two hours and we’re on our way to Memphis for the day, so the President wants to go down there after the storm’s through and check out the damage.”

“Right, of course.”

“I’m really sorry. I just… sometimes I don’t know…”

She cut him off. “It’s ok, Josh,” she said in a firm voice. “It can be crazy, I’m sure. I appreciate you letting me know.”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet for a few seconds and she searched for something to say. “Ok, well…”

“Can we…” he said, cutting her off. “What about next week sometime?” 

And suddenly she smiled so widely that she worried he’d somehow see it or hear it or… something. She stood up and faced her window, the phone cord twisting around her body. “Absolutely,” she said, not even caring how excited her voice sounded.

“Yeah?” he asked and if she’d let herself, she would’ve thought he sounded hopeful, eager maybe.

“Yes, that sounds good… great, actually,” she said, suddenly unable to control her mouth. She worried she might propose next. “Why don’t you give me a call when you’re back in town and we’ll reschedule?”

“Ok.” He paused for a second. “I really am sorry,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, me too,” she said the same way. 

His voice turned teasing then. “Damn tropical storm.”

She chuckled. “Interfering with our plans like that.”

“It’s quite rude if you ask me,” he said in an absolutely adorable voice that made her pulse quicken.

She turned around, facing her desk again, her smile even wider. “Extremely rude.” She heard him talking to someone in the background again, telling them he’d be right there. “Alright. Go, fix the gulf. I’ll talk to in a few days.”

“Kay. I’ll call you Monday.”

The phone went dead and she took it from her ear, staring at it for a second before hanging it up and sitting down. She sighed a happy sigh and looked up, her eyes growing wide when she saw Liz sitting across from her giving her an amused look.

“Well that explains the strange behavior.”

She tried to stop smiling, but it wouldn’t leave her face, so she played innocent. “Strange behavior?”

“The smiling, the humming, the wardrobe questions, the teasy-ness…”

“It’s still not a word, even when you add ‘ness’ to the end of it.”

“Shut-up.” She paused and looked closer at Donna, studying her. “You’re dating Josh Lyman,” she said pointedly.

“No I’m not,” she said adamantly. She’d spent the last two days convincing herself of that very thing, she didn’t need Liz to suck her back in. “We’re just… having lunch.”

“A lunch date is still a date and you like him.”

“I don’t like him,” she denied.

“No?” Liz asked with raised eyebrows. “Then stop smiling.”

She tried and couldn’t. “Just because I’m smiling doesn’t mean…”

Liz cut her off. “You’ve got it bad for Josh Lyman.”

“I do not!”

“When is this lunch date?”

“Our lunch non-date was supposed to be tomorrow but he had to reschedule because of a tropical storm in the gulf.”

“Crappy excuse if you ask me,” Liz said with a gleam in her eye.

“It’s a perfectly valid excuse and I didn’t.”

“So… this is why we’re having pedicures and manicures in the morning?”

“No! I just… thought it would be nice. Since you’re…” she gestured towards Liz’s stomach.”

“You’re using the baby as an excuse?” she asked indignantly.

“No! I just…”

“You want him.”

“No I don’t.”

“You really do.” She really did.

********** 

She made sure to arrive early to Congressman Wilson’s office, where the two of them and Sam Seaborn had a meeting with Congressmen Hamilton and Walker. It was her first meeting for the bill, and if she walked out of there with their votes, that would only leave 284 more that she’d need. 

She walked into the office and Sam was talking on his cell phone. He nodded at her and she smiled, staying back several steps so she didn’t intrude on his call. He hung up a few seconds later and walked up to her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“That was Josh. He said ‘do good.’”

Her smile widened. “He did?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile of his own. “He’s not the most eloquent.” 

It was perfectly eloquent, but she didn’t say that, didn’t tell him that it used to be their thing when she worked for him and that by remembering it, he’d made her entire day. She just nodded. “It was very nice. Tell him I said thank you.”

The others arrived shortly afterwards and Sam introduced Donna to the two congressmen she’d never met before Mark Wilson’s assistant shuffled them all into a small conference room and asked if anyone wanted coffee.

Congressman Hamilton was the first to speak when they got to business. “I have a few concerns with this bill.”

“What are they?” asked Congressman Wilson.

“Well, you say children with special needs and every parent in America thinks their child is special.”

Donna cleared her throat very softly before leaning forward. “Congressman, the wording of this bill has been carefully crafted to include only children with autism, cerebral palsy, mental retardation, down syndrome, microcephaly, mitochondrial and spina bifida. And not all children with cerebral palsy and mitochondrial will qualify.” 

“Then you’ll have parents and organizations screaming about children with special needs who don’t qualify. Even I’m wondering why some disabilities are included and others aren’t. We had that problem a few years back with the children’s diseases bill and I don’t want another filibuster gone wrong.”

“Are there specific disabilities you’re concerned about?” asked Congressman Allen.

“Cystic fibrosis and muscular dystrophy come to mind. Hearing impaired, visually impaired, and why won’t all children with cerebral palsy and mitochondrial qualify?”

“This program is for children with learning disabilities, Congressman,” Donna said. “Not all cerebral palsy and mitochondrial cases include learning disabilities. And the others are physical disabilities, which are included in previous legislation.”

“My concern,” Congressman Walker said in a loud booming voice, “Is that we don’t even know that these children will benefit from this.” 

Congressman Hamilton turned towards him. “Every child benefits from an education, Doug.”

“At the expense of the tax payer?”

“Absolutely at the expense of the tax payer. Taxes pay for all public education. Let constituents choose what their money’s being spent on and over 90% will say education.”

“90% of taxpayers don’t have these children.”

“You gonna campaign on that Doug?” Mark Wilson asked.

He looked at Mark Wilson and then back at Donna. “I’m not saying I don’t sympathize, but we’re already helping to fund care for these kids.”

“Congressman,” Donna said, leaning forward in her seat. “Children have a higher capacity for learning when they’re young. Every study, every report, every educator, all evidence we have says the earlier a child starts learning, the better off they are in the long run. That’s why we have pre-school programs. The question isn’t whether we should have them for these children; the question is why we don’t already.”

He stared at her for several seconds, then nodded. “Alright Ms. Moss. Talk to me about money allocations.”

**********

She was on the phone with Liz when she heard the buzzer, and as if caught in the act of… something, she turned sharply and stared at the door. “He’s here,” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Liz asked with a whisper of her own.

“Shut-up,” she said, walking over to the buzzer and staring at it. “I’ve got to go.”

“Have you buzzed him in?”

“I’m working up to it,” she said with her hand on the buzzer.

“He’ll eventually give up and go home, you know.”

Donna quickly hit the button. “Ok, now I’ve got to go.”

“Call me after.”

She hung up and stood next to the door. Then she turned and looked towards the hallway to her bedroom, re-thinking her outfit. Was it too casual? Too formal? Too cold outside for sandals? It was almost October, was she breaking some sort of after Labor Day rule? He knocked and she spun back around. She paused there for a few seconds and took a deep breath, finally reaching for the door and putting on a smile she hoped hid her nervousness.

She opened the door and nearly melted. He was wearing well-worn jeans that seemed to be custom-made for him and an untucked, unbuttoned shirt over a dark green t-shirt that was tucked into said custom-made jeans. Sandals rounded out the outfit and she smiled; he looked… relaxed. Like he was any guy in the world with any job in the world, and it was a typical Sunday and he was having lunch with a friend. She wondered if that’s what they were, friends. She couldn’t really say that’s what they’d been before. She’d been his assistant, and they were friendly, and they certainly had a relationship that most wouldn’t consider strictly professional, and of course, she’d been head over heels in love with him and he’d looked at her like a little sister, but she wondered if he’d considered her a friend too.

“Hi,” he said after several seconds.

She held the door open a little further. “Hi, come in.”

He paused for a second and then walked inside. “You like plants,” he said, looking around the living room.

She’d almost suggested they meet at a restaurant for that very reason. The living room alone must’ve had fifteen plants in it, as well as a hideous couch and matching chair, and she quickly spoke to assure him it wasn’t her taste. “They’re not mine. A woman I work with is on a sabbatical in Africa,” she rambled. “My lease was coming due and she asked if I’d move in here for six months and water her plants.”

“Ahh…” he said, walking around the living room.

“Not really my style, I admit,” she said, adjusting a dark beige blanket she’d put on the back of the couch to tone it down a bit. “But since I only work part time, it was hard to turn down rent-free living for six months.”

He turned back towards her and she quickly put her hands behind her back. “What are you going to do in six months when the Baked and Wired isn’t two blocks away?” he asked teasingly, easing her nervousness a little.

“I have no idea,” she said almost seriously. The Baked and Wired had become a nearly daily habit. 

They stood there for a second, just looking at each other until he finally smiled and nodded towards the door, and she felt like an idiot for not getting the hint. He held the door open for her and she grabbed her purse and walked out. “So, what are you hungry for?”

She shrugged. “You pick.”

His gaze drifted for just a second and then the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Ok, how about Greek?” She loved Greek, but not two days in a row and she and Liz had eaten at Zorba’s Cafe the day before when they’d gone shopping for maternity clothes at least four months before Liz would need them. “You know you want to pick,” he said, chuckling when she scrunched up her face. “Just do it.”

She pretended to pout and elbowed him in the side. It felt nice, teasing each other again. They walked out the main doors and she took a deep breath. It was an awesome day outside and she wondered where they could go with outdoor seating. “Do you like Jonathan’s Deli?” 

He nodded. “Sure. You want to drive or walk?”

Jonathan’s was only a fifteen minute walk and it would be nice to spend time with him doing nothing. “Walk.”

He nodded and they started down the sidewalk. It was quiet and a bit awkward, and she could feel herself getting more and more nervous as they walked. “So… it was nice to see Toby Ziegler again.”

“He said the same thing about you.” It went silent again and she tried to appear at ease, looking up at the sky and around at buildings, but inside she was belittling herself for recommending walking. A full minute had gone by without either of them speaking when he looked back over at her. “He said that he tried to steal you away from me when… during the…” he trailed off and gestured. 

She smiled slightly, keeping her hands down to her side so he couldn’t see them shaking, and nodded. “Several times.”

“Several times?” he asked in a high, squeaky voice, and her smile got wider as she tried not to laugh.

“Yes. The first time I’d been cleaning your office a day or two after we got back from South Carolina, and he walked in looking for you while I was handling a call from a donor that you really didn’t need to get stuck talking to. When I hung up, he said if I came to work for him, he’d never make me clean anything. After that, he just occasionally asked me. Usually after you…” she stopped suddenly.

“After I what?” 

“You know… yelled or something.”

His eyes went wide. “I yelled at you?” 

“No,” she said, laughing. “You yelled for me.”

“Oh…” he trailed off and looked forwards again, but then quickly looked back at her. “Well, how were you supposed to know I needed you?”

“Exactly,” she said emphatically. “That’s what I told CJ.”

“CJ tried to steal you too?” he asked with wide eyes.

She nodded, a huge smile now permanently on her face. “Only once. At some high school in…” she knew exactly where the high school was, but she pretended to try to remember so he wouldn’t think she was some lunatic who’d pined over him for four years. She thought it best that he not know that about her. “Pennsylvania, I think. I convinced a janitor to let us move the rally from the gym into the auditorium and she told me to forget you and work for her.”

“Traitors. Every one of them,” he said shaking his head but smiling all the same.

She laughed again, thankful that the awkwardness seemed to be gone and that they were able to actually talk about the time she worked for him. “Do they try to steal… April, right?”

“No…” he drew out. “She’s not like you.”

“Proficient at her job?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“Pleasant to be around.”

“Ahh…”

“Yes.” 

It was quiet again after that, but not the thick silence that had left the apartment with them, and she glanced over at him to see him smiling, his dimples out and an air of easiness about him. 

They got to Jonathan’s a few minutes later and walked to the counter to order and she started getting nervous again. This was always the worst part about a first date… not that this was a date, she reminded herself. It was a… semi-date, at best. With a man who may or may not still consider her a semi-sister and who may or may not harbor some feelings of hatred or at least anger towards her. All of which just made her question first date etiquette even more. Should she get out her wallet and at least offer to pay for her lunch? Would he expect her to and would she look bad if she didn’t offer? Or if she did offer, would he be offended and think that she didn’t think it was a semi-date? And if he did pay, would it because he thought it was a semi-date or because she bought breakfast a week and a half earlier? Men were so confusing. 

“Donna…” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

She shook her head a little and looked at him. “Yes?”

“Uhh…” he looked at the cashier and then back at her. “Do you know what you want?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’ll have…” she glanced up at the wall behind the counter serving as the menu. “A salad with… chicken on it…” Where the hell were the salads? “Grilled chicken, and… some sort of Italian dressing. And a… an iced tea.”

He chuckled at her as he handed the kid his credit card, answering at least her first question, but not the second. “You sure you’re ready to order?”

“Yes!” she said as she lightly elbowed him in the arm. “See,” she said, gesturing to the wall, finally having found the salads. “Grilled chicken salad, right there.”

“Uh huh,” he said doubtfully, taking two styrofoam cups and his receipt and card from the cashier.

They filled their drinks and found a table outside under an umbrella, and then Josh went back to the counter to wait for their food. When he got back, it was quiet for a minute while she prepared her salad and he picked things off of his sandwich and opened his potato chips and she smiled when she saw that they were Baked Lays. “Can I ask you a question,” she asked quietly a minute later.

“Ok.” 

She hesitated and he looked down at his sandwich. “That woman I met last week, Debbie. Is she the President’s secretary?” She hadn’t put two and two together until later, but then it had seemed strange to her. The woman she met had seemed so very different from Mrs. Landingham.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Mrs. Landingham passed away about a year and a half ago.”

She nodded and took a drink of her iced tea. “I know, I was at her funeral,” she said softly.

“You were?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah. You looked…” ‘so much better than you had just before Christmas,’ went through her mind. “Really tired.”

“It was a long week,” he paused and looked at her. “Wait, you saw me?”

She smiled. “You were a pallbearer.”

He nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. “Now I get to ask you a question.” 

Butterflies swam in her stomach and she nodded at him. “Ok.”

“What’s your undergrad degree?”

“Political Science with a minor in children’s studies.” He raised his eyebrows and she matched his look. “What?” 

“It’s just…” he gestured towards her and smiled. “That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“Well, I’d wasted enough time. I needed to get in and get out; one major, one minor, no switching.” He chuckled and she wondered if he remembered the day they met as she nervously rambled off every major and minor she’d even considered in her first two years at UW. “My turn,” she said, stabbing into her salad. “Do you still love what you do?” 

He swallowed the bite of sandwich in his mouth and got a grin on his face that made her think of a ten year-old. “Every day. Do you really like the Mets now?”

“Yes, but I’m not impressed with Piazza,” she said before taking a drink of her tea and considering her next move in this game of 20 questions they were playing. One question nagged her, had nagged her since the night of the Rock the Vote concert over a month ago. Was he still with Amy Gardner? But she didn’t think she could ask that without looking like a stalker, so instead she asked, “Are you still with Mandy?” hoping he’d say something along the lines of ‘No, I’m not with anyone.’

Instead he started choking. “Mandy! No. No, no, no. No. No,” he said, shaking his head. 

“So, no?” she asked him with an amused smile. Because even though he hadn’t answered her real question, he’d led her to believe that he finally got a clue about Mandy Hampton. And if he had a clue about her, maybe he had a clue about Amy Gardner.

He continued shaking his head. “No. Are you still with…” 

It took her just a second to realize he was asking about Michael and she felt a brief pang of guilt for using him as her excuse all those years ago. “Michael,” she finished for him. “And no.” He smirked then and she couldn’t help almost reading into it. If he was happy that she wasn’t with Michael, maybe he did consider it a semi-date. She stole a chip off his plate to hide the smile that thought caused. “Don’t smirk.”

He watched her eat the chip with a look she couldn’t quite place and then chuckled at her. "Still stealing food, I see."

She just grinned and took another chip from his plate.


	15. Stumbling into Life

The guard handed her purse to her and told her that Margaret was on her way. She thanked him and walked into the lobby, looking around at expensive artwork and high ceilings and wondering if she’d run into Josh. It had only been two days since they’d had lunch at Jonathan’s, and the last thing she wanted to look like was some freak who stalked him down at work because she hadn’t heard from him. She hadn’t, but she hadn’t expected to. It was Tuesday and she knew he’d spent Monday in Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Columbus. He’d mentioned at their lunch how important it was that the campaign speeches in Ohio go well. 

“I’m sorry we had to meet here,” Margaret said, rushing into the lobby as through they were in mid-conversation. They’d set up lunch more than a week earlier, but Margaret had called her that morning and asked apologetically if they could eat in the cafeteria at the White House. “Debate negotiations aren’t going as well as we’d hoped. Leo… there’s just no way I can be gone for long.”

Donna smiled at the glimpse of what her life might have been like had she stayed with Josh. “That’s ok, I’m just glad we could get together.” 

Margaret stopped and looked at her, finally leaning in and giving her a quick hug. “Me too, and the food in the Mess is pretty good, although deceptively unhealthy.”

Donna laughed and followed her down a hallway and then a set of stairs. They passed a woman Josh had introduced her to, but she couldn’t remember the woman’s name, so she nodded and smiled but said nothing. When they reached the cafeteria, they stood in a short line and Margaret ordered a salad while Donna chose a fruit and yogurt plate, then they sat at a table for two against a wall to catch up.

“So…” Margaret said. “What have you been up to for the last four years?”

“College, work and more college,” Donna said, giving her the short version and finding it surprisingly sad that there was so little life and so much routine to it. “You?”

“Work, very little sleep and more work.”

Donna smiled before dipping a strawberry into the vanilla yogurt and taking a bite. There was a brief pause that was somewhat awkward and it occurred to her that she really barely knew this woman. They’d been friendly during the campaign all those years ago, but certainly hadn’t formed some sort of lasting bond. “Josh took me on a tour a few weeks ago,” she said when the silence had stretched as long as it could. “This place certainly is different from that old warehouse in Manchester.”

Margaret looked around unimpressed and Donna wondered if after four years she would’ve done the same. Granted, the cafeteria wasn’t much to look at, but she hated to think that she could ever get used to the sheer awesomeness of the White House. “It may look different, but it’s just as hectic. Maybe even more so.”

“I’m sure.” Another pause and Donna found herself glad Margaret didn’t have much time for lunch. “So… Josh’s assistant seems…nice,” she said in a questioning tone.

Margaret took a bite of her salad. “She’s very efficient, definitely the best assistant he’s had since we’ve been in the White House.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “How many has he had?”

“Four… I think; three in the first year. But then he split up the responsibilities and hired a research assistant and a scheduling assistant. It works out better that way. Jason and April have been with him for more than two years.”

Josh walked into the cafeteria then and up to the counter and Donna found her attention wavering as her eyes were drawn to his rolled up sleeves and half-undone tie. 

“Josh said you’re in law school. How do you like it?”

“It’s…” She tried to focus on Margaret but kept one eye on Josh. “…great. I love it, really. It’s hard, but…” She should go up and say hi. They’d had lunch. It was awkward free. There was conversation and smiling and dimples and maybe, if she looked hard enough and really let her imagination run away with her, a little flirting. She should just go up and say hi. 

“How much time do you have left?” Or stay with Margaret, with whom she was having lunch. It wasn’t her favorite option, but seemed like the polite one.

“This is my…” he turned around with a tray in his hand and had taken about two steps before he saw her and shock registered on his face. She smiled widely at him, finding that she simply had no control over her facial muscles when in his presence, and he smiled back before walking their way. She looked at Margaret, wondering if the older woman could tell that her cheeks were flushed. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“Hey,” Josh said, reaching their table.

“Hi,” she said, Margaret all but forgotten.

He held his tray against his waist and she looked at fries and a burger she imagined was burnt beyond recognition. This April woman might be efficient, but Donna doubted she was taking care of Josh properly. “I just left you a message at your office. I didn’t know you were going to be here today. Are you meeting with Sam?”

She shook her head. “No, just meeting Margaret for lunch.”

He looked across from her as if noticing Margaret sitting there for the first time. “Oh.” He paused and looked back at Donna. “I tried to call you.”

“You said that,” Margaret said.

He shot Margaret a look before focusing on Donna again. “I only have your work number.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “You do? I should…” she trailed off and looked at him for a second, his dimples out and a look of what she wanted to believe was happiness at seeing her. It took a few seconds to tear her eyes away, and then she picked up her purse and pulled out a pen and a business card. She wrote her cell number on the card and put it on his tray. “Here.”

He looked down at the business card and back up at her with a grin. “Is that an eight?”

“It’s a perfectly legible eight,” she said with a grin of her own.

“So you say,” he teased, his dimples pronounced even more. Then he looked back at Margaret. “Leo was looking for you a minute ago.”

Margaret sat up straighter. “Did he need something?”

“I think so. I just heard him yelling your name.”

Without a word, Margaret put her half-eaten salad and her silverware on her tray and stood up. Donna watched unsurprised; Margaret’s loyalties had always been to Leo and the site of it still so strong amongst such change was comforting. There was a time, somewhere between hiring herself and falling in love with Josh that she wondered if twenty years later they’d be their own version of Leo and Margaret. 

Margaret looked at her apologetically. “I’m so sorry…”

“That’s ok,” Donna said with a smile. “We’ll try again after the election.”

She picked up her purse. “Absolutely. You want me to walk you out?”

“I got it,” Josh said, nudging her out of the way and sitting in her spot after putting his tray down in her place, all the while never taking his eyes off Donna.

Donna looked at him and then up at Margaret, trying to reel in her excitement at the change in lunch partners. “I’m good, thanks.”

She watched Margaret leave and turned to Josh, who had a victorious look on his face. She studied him while he took a bite of his burger and when he looked up at her, he tried to appear innocent. “What?”

One side of her mouth quirked up. “Leo needed Margaret?”

He shrugged and smirked at her. “Probably.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, shaking her head as if scolding him but doubting seriously that he’d believe it. She felt ready to burst with excitement and was certain anyone within a fifty yard radius could tell. “You couldn’t have ordered something healthier than a burger and fries,” she asked, changing the subject and stealing a fry off his plate.

He leaned back and took a drink of coke, still smirking. “And leave you nothing to steal off my plate?”

“I could’ve stolen a carrot stick.”

“That wouldn’t have been as much fun.” He put down the coke and looked at her, freaking her out just a little with his silence. “You could’ve stopped by my office,” he said in a serious tone. “Said hello.”

Lies started popping into her head. ‘I was going to after lunch.’ ‘I didn’t want to interrupt your work.’ ‘I didn’t want to get arrested for wandering the White House.’ But she didn’t want to lie to him, not now. Not after four years of not having him and then being let back into his life; he deserved more than that from her. So she took a deep breath and looked straight at him. “I wanted to. I didn’t know if it would be ok… with you.” 

They sat quietly looking at each other for several seconds, his eyes boring into hers, and she worried that she’d been too forward, brought up things better left in the past. But then he pushed his tray forward a little on the table and leaned over it, speaking softly enough that only she could hear. “It would be ok with me.” 

They kept looking at each other, their faces as close as possible across the small table, until it seemed everyone was gone but the two of them. She smiled slightly, and when he kept looking at her, it turned into beaming and she nodded. “Then next time I will.”

He watched her for another second or two before taking a strawberry from her plate and leaning back in his seat. “Good,” he said, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

She was positive something had just happened there, even if she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, and her imagination started running off towards a honeymoon spot in the Caribbean and a shirtless Josh on a beach. Trying to calm her nerves, she stabbed some more fruit with her fork and ate it. “You said you called me?” she said after swallowing some cantaloupe. 

“I don’t know how you eat that stuff,” he said with the look of a child eating liver. “But yes, I did. There’s a thing this weekend.”

“A thing?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. 

“Yeah, Sam said we should go.” 

She raised her eyebrows. The three of them were going someplace? That didn’t sound like a date; that sounded like work. Suddenly her imagination hit a brick wall just before Josh rubbed suntan lotion on her back on that beach. “Is it something for the bill?” 

His eyes widened. “The bill?” he asked with a confused voice. “No… I mean, he said you and I should go; not all three of us.”

“Oh…” 

“But… I mean… we could invite him if you wanted to. It’s… you know… a public thing. We can’t really stop him from going.” He was babbling and sounding a bit nervous, and somehow it made her less so. 

And she didn’t know if it was because of that, or because she was no longer that kid he had to watch out for, or because this was her second chance at this and she doubted she’d have a third, but suddenly something in her was screaming to stop pretending that she wanted nothing more than a friendship with him. “Well then… if it’s a public thing, he can go on his own, right? He doesn’t have to come with us.”

He looked at her and paused and she thought maybe… maybe he heard what she’d really just said. “Right. Good, right. He can go alone. Forget Sam, he’s nobody.”

“And where will be going, exactly?” she asked with a hint of laughter in her voice. Not that it mattered. She couldn’t imagine a place she wouldn’t go with him.

He looked at her as though he already mentioned it. “The Taste of Washington. It’s all weekend, a few blocks from here. I’ve never been, but Sam said it’s great.”

“I went last year with Liz, it’s fun.”

“Yeah? So you want to go?”

“Absolutely. When?”

“See…” he said, leaning back and hanging his head a bit. “That’s where things get sticky.”

“Sticky?”

“The debate’s in two weeks…”

“So you have to work this weekend,” she finished for him.

He looked at her sadly and nodded. “We’re spending next weekend in New Hampshire and I have to get Stackhouse to drop out of the race before then. But,” he said, sitting up and leaning forward. “I’m thinking I could get away for a few hours either Saturday or Sunday. I just don’t know which one yet.”

“So I should be prepared to go both days?” she asked with an amused look.

“It’s an attractive offer, I know. My attentiveness is unparalleled.”

“Yes, I’m being swept right off my feet. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down.”

He smirked. “I’m charming like that.”

********** 

She poured the two virgin daiquiris and grabbed a bag of Doritos out of the cabinet. Since their traditional ‘brainstorming’ was out of the question now that Liz was pregnant, they’d settled on junk food, movies, and virgin drinks. Donna wasn’t sure why hers had to be virgin, but Liz assured her that’s what a friend would do.

She walked back into the living room and handed Liz her drink before sitting on the hideous sofa and putting her feet up on the coffee table. She hoped the subject they’d been discussing would change, but as soon as she was comfortable, Liz picked up where they’d left off. “You guys need to go on a date when he doesn’t have to go back to work. Then you could… you know.”

In her quest to stop pretending, she’d come partially clean with Liz; admitting that there might possibly be a slight inclination towards him that some could consider a very slight, almost miniscule, attraction. She thought it was a break through of sorts, but Liz didn’t buy it for a minute. 

“No, I don’t know.”

“Then it’s worse than I thought. See Donna, when a man and a woman like each other, they take off all their clothes and….”

“You’re not funny.”

“Yes I am.”

“Ok,” Donna acquiesced. “Yes, you are. But Josh and I are…” meant to be, written in the stars, what romance movies are made of. “Friends. We’re just hanging out.”

“Hanging out,” Liz snorted. “Another term for dating without sex.”

“No… another name for friendship.”

Liz looked over at her with raised eyebrows. “Except that you’d like to get naked with him.”

She would. She really would. “I never said that.”

“But you never denied it.” 

“Your point?” she deadpanned before taking a drink of the glorified strawberry slush.

“Do you want to get naked with Mark?”

“Gross!” she coughed out, trying not to spit out her drink. “No!”

“See,” Liz said, popping a Dorito into her mouth. “That you denied.”

She sighed and leaned back on the sofa, her head on the back and her eyes closed. “Can we change the subject now?”

“Yes. I’ve had enough fun at your expense tonight.” 

She opened an eye to see Liz staring at her. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A smile lit Liz’s face. “Let’s talk about Hannah.”

Donna snickered and sat up. “You can’t keep calling the baby Hannah. What if it’s a boy? He’ll have a complex.” 

Liz rubbed her stomach. “She’s a girl. I can tell.”

“Uh huh…”

“I’m a mother. We have instincts.”

“You’re certifiably insane.”

“Anyway,” Liz said as she stood up and drained her glass, then walked towards the kitchen. “Last night, Hannah was kicking and…”

“She’s the size of a peanut. She was not kicking.”

“I’m telling you, I felt something.”

“Yeah, gas.”

“Have you ever been pregnant?” This had become Liz’s favorite way of winning an argument.

“No.” 

“Then Hannah was kicking.”

Donna gestured towards her. “So sorry, please go on.”

Liz smiled and nodded. “So, Hannah was kicking and Tom got on his knees so he was at her level and talked to her through my stomach. It was very cute.”

It was cute. Perfectly adorably cute. She and Tom were that couple that made everyone want what they had. They teased and touched and kissed each other on the cheek and were just shy of sickeningly sweet. And where other people might have found out they’d accidentally gotten pregnant and spent a little time freaking out, they’d had not a single doubt. 

“Let me ask you something,” Donna said as Liz came back into the living room eating Ben and Jerry’s. “But first… I have Ben and Jerry’s?”

Liz nodded and scooped out a big glop, holding the spoon for Donna who leaned forward and ate it. “I brought it over Saturday and put it in your fridge for pregnancy emergencies.”

“Of course,” Donna said, chuckling at her. “We wouldn’t want utter pandemonium.”

Liz ignored her and took a bite of ice cream. “You wanted to ask me a question.”

“Right. You and Tom… you’ve known each other for years, right?”

“Six years.”

“But you’ve been dating for only ten months.”

“Yes…”

“Do you regret that? That you didn’t date sooner?”

“No.”

“No?”

Liz shook her head. “No.”

Donna sat up, pulling her feet underneath her and looking intently at Liz. “That’s it. You’re not going to elaborate?”

Liz handed Donna the ice cream and she scooped out a spoonful. “If we’d dated six years ago, we wouldn’t have lasted.”

“You might have,” Donna said around a piece of cookie dough.

“Nah. We weren’t who we are now. Tom was the typical twenty something; closing down the bars, sleeping with a new girl every month, living in a run down apartment in the ghetto with Mark and some idiot named Brad. And I was young. When we met, I’d just gotten back from backpacking across Europe for six months because the thought of getting a job after college and working like the rest of the world scared the crap out of me. How could I ask a man to love me when I wasn’t even me yet? You know what I mean?”

Donna regarded her for a long moment before nodding slightly. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think I do.” She handed Liz back the ice cream and looked back at the muted television as an old episode of ‘Laverne and Shirley’ came on. 

“Don’t get me wrong though, I thought he was hot. He had the whole Greenwich Village look going on.”

“Yeah?” Donna asked, glancing over at Liz.

“Oh yeah. Yes indeed. Why we never had a one-night stand I don’t know.” She paused for a second. “But I’m glad we didn’t.”

********** 

When Donna walked into the White House and through the metal detector that Sunday, he was waiting in the lobby for her with a sheepish grin on his face and wearing jeans that nearly made her knees buckle. He’d called on Saturday morning and apologetically postponed until the next day, and she knew that had he been any other man she would’ve been pissed. Still, he wasn’t any other man and even if it made her weak, she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad at him. His brilliance, his dedication, the effort he put into his job were all things she fell in love with all those years ago and to penalize him for them now was impossible. Plus, he was wearing those jeans…

They walked back towards his office as he asked her about the paper she’d spent three weeks working on for ‘Higher Education Law and Policy,’ and she found herself reeling that he remembered something she’d mentioned in passing while they walked back from Jonathan’s a week earlier. “I turned it in on Friday,” she said proudly. 

It was quiet for a second. “I’m sorry I had to cancel yesterday.”

“You didn’t cancel,” she said with a smile. “You postponed.”

“Still…”

She cut him off. “There’s a big difference, Josh. Believe me, I’m a woman. I know these things.”

He chuckled and put his hand on her back to guide her through the doors to his section of the building. “Would you hit me with your purse if I said I have to do one more thing before we go?”

“Nah, the Secret Service would probably take me out for something like that.”

They walked into his office and April walked in behind them. “Toby’s almost done with Jeffrey Peters. If you’re going to accidentally stop in there, you need to do it now.” Must get Peters. She smiled at the memory.

He looked at April. “Ok. Pull me out of there in five minutes. And find me some Bayer.”

April nodded and walked out as Josh turned back to Donna. “Five minutes and I’m all yours.”

“Should I…” she hooked a thumb over her shoulder towards the door.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and watched him leave before looking around the room. There was a chalkboard in the corner with a large 29 in the center of it circled several times with red marker and it took her a few seconds to realize that there were 29 days until the election. She continued scanning and her eyes landed on a picture frame on his desk. She walked to it and picked it up, smiling at the same picture of his parents that had been in the frame four years earlier. He was quite the spitting image of his father; the same hair, the same build, the same boyish look in his eyes. His dimples, however, were from his mother, and she suspected that as a child he hated them until he learned how to use them to his advantage.

“Excuse me,” April said as she reached around her and put a bottle of Aleve down on the desk.”

“Sorry, I was just…” she looked at the bottle again. “I think he asked for Bayer.”

“He always asks for Bayer,” April said, turning and walking towards the door. “He gets Aleve.”

She stared at the empty doorway for a good minute after April was gone, fighting every instinct she had to walk out to that horrible woman’s desk and explain to her in a not so quiet voice that Bayer was better for people who might be prone to a heart attack, which Josh probably was since he’d been shot in the chest while doing his job to make the world fit to live in. And that maybe, just maybe, April could do a little bit to help make that job easier and to show that she appreciated the fact that he worked eighty hours a week and sacrificed any sort of personal life and was almost killed to make sure she lived in a safe, free, prosperous country and that stopping by the fucking CVS and buying Bayer for him might be a way to start. 

“Ok, I’m all yours for the next two hours and twenty-five minutes.” The sound startled her and she jumped a little and tore her eyes from the door to see Josh standing directly in front of her. Her hands were shaking and between the anger and the shock of his voice coming from the other doorway, her breathing was a bit erratic. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and looking at him again. “Are you ok?” he asked with a worried look, touching her arm lightly.

She glanced over at the desk and then to the door April had left through. “She brought Aleve,” she said quietly as though that answered the question.

He squinted his eyes in confusion and looked over at the desk. “Ok.”

There were certain things neither had mentioned since spending time together again. The fact that she left, the campaign afterwards, and the shooting topped that list, and she knew it might have been too soon, too serious for what they were now, but she quietly and slowly asked him anyway. “But you should use Bayer, shouldn’t you?” 

He looked away from her, back to the bottle of pills on the desk as silence fell on the room. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and then cautiously looked back at her, holding her gaze for a moment before quietly saying, “Yeah.”

She continued looking at him, hoping the look in her eyes was of understanding and compassion and that he wouldn’t mistake it for pity. She was itching to rest her hand on his chest over his heart, to thank him for living through that nightmare, to apologize for not being there, but she settled for looping her arm through his and walking him towards the door. “Then we’ll stop by the drugstore and pick up a bottle to leave in your desk,” she said in as light a voice as possible as they left the office.

**********

Josh was quiet as they walked the few blocks to the part of Pennsylvania Avenue that was blocked off for the Taste of Washington, but Donna chatted about anything and everything she could think of, hoping to put him at ease. It worked pretty easily she thought, when, like her, he couldn’t help laughing at stories of Tom and Liz and the pregnancy.

“Ooh, let’s try this,” Josh said as he pulled her by the arm to a small line in front of a booth with a sign hanging over it that read, ‘Corky’s BBQ: Brisket, Pulled Pork, Fried Corn.’

“Fried corn?”

“Well… you know… if you’ve got to eat vegetables, it certainly helps to fry them.”

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “Take out as much nutrition as possible.”

“Exactly,” he said with a smirk of his own. “And this is about trying new things. I’d hazard a guess that you’ve never had fried corn?”

“That’s a safe bet,” she said as he bought two half-cobs of a lightly battered fried corn. They’d already had pizza from a new place in Foggy Bottom and a gouda cheese and tomato something or another that Josh had quickly spit out into a napkin, but Donna was having so much fun that she didn’t even care that they were eating mostly crap. 

They walked around for a while after that, talking about the still warm weather and how much Josh disliked the President’s farm in New Hampshire and the fact that if the Mets won two of their upcoming games, they’d make it into the playoffs. His hand stayed on her back the entire time, maneuvering her between crowds and leading her around in that way of his that never failed to make her feel both safe and nervous as hell at the same time.

It seemed that everyone was out on that Sunday afternoon, and anyone who was anyone wanted five minutes with Josh. He was polite, introducing her to those people she didn’t know, which was most of them, but excused him self quickly each time, telling whomever it was to call him at the office that week. And each time, as they walked away, he’d lean in close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her ear and apologize for the interruption.

They listened to some live music by a local band neither had ever heard of, and after two songs, they knew why and started walking again, passing the Teatro Goldoni booth. Donna stopped. “I hear this place is great.”

He looked up at the sign and led her over to the line. “It is. They have great fettuccini alfredo.”

When they reached the front of the line, she ordered a sample of risotto and he ordered a sample of fettuccini alfredo.”

“You already know what that tastes like,” she said after he ordered.

“Yes, and I know I like it,” he said, handing the man four tickets and picking up the two Styrofoam bowls and two sporks.

She laughed at him and stuck her spork into his fettuccini, taking a bite and moaning. “That’s… wow.”

“I told you,” he said with a chuckle as he took two more bites that finished it and then threw his spork and bowl away.

She took a bite of her risotto and closed her eyes. “Mmmm…” she said in bliss. She was going to have to save up the money to go there. “Unbelievable.”

“Sounds like it.” 

She opened her eyes and saw him smirking at her, and her mouth dropped open a bit and she hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Pervert.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “I merely commented on the taste of your risotto.”

She tried not to smile at him but found it impossible. “It’s incredible; taste it,” she said, holding her bowl out to him.

He looked into the bowl and then up at her. “I uh…” he said, holding up his empty hands.

She looked at him strangely until she got what he was saying. “You’re not one of those people, are you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “One of what people?”

“People who can’t share silverware.”

“No… I just…” She grinned at him and held a sporkfull of risotto up to him. He looked at her for a second before leaning in and closing his mouth around it. “That is good,” he said as he leaned back and looked at her, and she found that she had to fight the urge to stick the spork directly into her mouth. 

“I told you,” she said with a dry mouth.

He must’ve noticed something behind her then because his eyes widened and he mumbled ‘oh shit’ under his breath. 

“What?” she asked as she turned around, stopping suddenly at the sight of Amy Gardner walking towards them. ‘Oh shit,’ her sentiment exactly.

“My ex,” he said quietly into her ear from behind her.

“Josh,” Amy said she approached.

“Amy,” he said shortly, coming around from behind Donna, but putting his hand on her back as it had been all afternoon.

“You had Jeffrey Peters call the senator?”

Donna looked over at him as he tried to hide a smirk and was certain she knew why he’d ‘accidentally’ walked into Toby’s meeting earlier. “I told you a month ago he needed to drop out.”

She crossed her arms over his chest and huffed at him. “So you sicked the chairman of the DNC on him?”

He didn’t deny it but instead chose to stand there and stare her down. “I assume it worked?” he asked and Donna wondered again why this woman continued to try to beat him at his game. She obviously had no idea how brilliant he was.

Amy glared at him for a few seconds before raising and eyebrow and replying. “He’s dropping out before Red Mass tonight.” She looked over at Donna then and studied her before nodding. “Donna…”

Donna did her best to smile politely. “Amy…”

Josh looked over at Donna. “You two know each other?” he asked with shock on his face.

She nodded dumbly but it was Amy who spoke. “What’s wrong Josh? Worried we’ll swap stories?”

He kept his eyes on Donna, his jaw set and fire in his eyes, then slipped his arm further around her waist and turned back to Amy. “No. Donna would never do that. If you’ll excuse us…” he said and turned and led Donna away. 

Neither of them said anything until they were far out of Amy’s sight. “So…” Donna finally said. “Amy….” 

“One of my disastrous relationships,” he said with a chuckle, his arm still around her waist, pulling her body close to his as they walked.

She looked over at him with a smile. “I don’t think you have very good taste in women.”

He studied her for a second, then let his hand drift down to rest on her hip. “I don’t know, I think it’s improving.”


	16. Stumbling into Life

She didn’t see him again for ten days, which she really thought sucked but was in reality probably a good thing. Midterms were the last week of October and she had a group case study in ‘Juveniles and the Courts’ that would be thirty percent of her entire semester’s grade. And there was 726; the committee had sent it to the speaker to call the vote, hoping to have it pass before election day, but they still needed about 8 votes. With Sam on the campaign trail for the President and both Congressmen Allen and Wilson campaigning for themselves, she was left with most of the legwork.

As for Josh, he spent most of the week after the Taste of Washington campaigning, and had then gone to New Hampshire for the weekend to prepare the President for the debate. It was the next Wednesday, the day after the debate, when they finally got to see each other again, and even then the Mets game and Chinese food at his place had to be combined with studying for a test she had the next morning.

Meanwhile, there were phone calls and e-mails and it wasn’t nearly enough. Talking on the phone, while seemingly safe, wasn’t as much fun. She couldn’t see his facial expressions and gestures, and she found herself wanting to read into things he said but not sure she was hearing them correctly. He was beginning to mention the future in small ways; going to a movie he heard was coming out around Christmas, getting tickets to a game when the Mets came to Baltimore the next season, proposing that when she had 726 wrapped up, they discuss federal regulations of foreign adoption. She wondered if he even realized it, and if so, if it meant even half as much to him as it did to her.

When they did have dinner at his place, she learned that his father had died not long after she left the campaign, and it brought on a whole new wave of guilt. She’d been so miserable during that time… crying nearly constantly, not eating, doing absolutely nothing social; it was one of the darkest times of her entire life. And the whole time, she’d assumed he was fine, that he hadn’t needed her, that he was having a blast out on the campaign trail. But after finding out about his father, she found herself wondering how he found out, where he was, who arranged his ticket home, who pulled him in and hugged him. He would’ve acted so strong, like he could handle anything, like he didn’t need anyone. Did anyone see through that façade?

They’d also discussed the shooting in their own way of discussing things without actually mentioning them, and she’d shyly admitted that she’d worried about him, prayed for him, sent a card. It had been during that horrible first week when she wasn’t even really functioning and she couldn’t remember a thing she’d written in it, but she didn’t mention that. Nor did she mention that she’d been a complete wreck, that she’d almost failed one of her finals, that she’d gone to the hospital and lied to his mother so she could see him. Those were things she hoped she’d never have to tell him, because even now, as they were on the cusp of this new thing she was sure could be amazing, those memories made her feel young and naïve and pathetic. 

 

********** 

The bill passed on October 24th with thirty-three votes to spare. It seemed that with only eleven days until the elections and education being such a huge subject, thirty-one members of congress had switched to yes votes at the last minute to help their campaigns. They celebrated at work that afternoon by ordering in lunch and drinking champagne, and she received calls from The Federation for Children with Special Needs, the Research Alliance for Children with Special Needs, and the National Autistic Society, as well as Senator Stackhouse and several members of the house. Her parents sent flowers and Liz bought her a bottle of wine, but she would’ve been lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t spent the whole day excited about dinner with Josh that night.

She spent most of the day skipping around the office like she had some secret no one could know about, and Michelle finally sent her home, claiming she didn’t have the energy to watch her. The extra time had only made her more excited, and she went to Piaf’s to get a pedicure and manicure before going home to get ready. It hadn’t been until she’d walked up to the counter to pay that she realized in all her excitement, she’d left her purse, phone and attaché case at the office, and she’d apologized profusely and asked to borrow their phone to call the office and have Liz read her credit card number to her.

She rushed home to get ready, showering and shaving and sugar scrubbing and using her favorite scented lotion before spending about twice as long as usual on her hair, then straightened up the living room and made her bed, deciding not to dwell on why that seemed important. Her stomach was fluttering and it reminded her of the second and last fundraiser she’d put together for the campaign. She’d spent all day trying to convince herself the nervousness was because of the fundraiser and not Josh, but he’d come into her room like a breeze and it had been hard to deny. And then he’d zipped up the last bit of her dress, his fingers brushing against her back, and told her in a voice she so wanted to read into that she looked stunning. 

She shook off the thought and slipped into her dress; it was red and was missing most of the back and looked anything but business-like, which was exactly what she was going for. She and Liz had gone shopping Wednesday night and she’d bought it along with matching underwear for the occasion. Not that the underwear mattered, she told Liz. She just wanted to feel gorgeous. Liz had just laughed and asked once again if Donna needed her to explain the whole dating/sex thing to her. 

She was almost completely ready, just finishing up her jewelry, when out of absolutely nowhere she wondered if Josh might be trying to reach her. With his schedule as crazy as it was, it certainly wouldn’t be out of the question, and she’d had her home phone disconnected because she was never there to use it. She tried to shake the feeling off; he’d be there in twenty minutes, it’d be fine. Unless he’d been trying to call her since three-thirty that afternoon when she left the office. She glanced at the clock, then scribbled a quick note to him and left for the office. 

********** 

When she got back to her apartment, he was standing straight up against her building with his eyes closed, wearing a navy blue suit and not looking disheveled like he usually did after hours of work. It was a good look, a really good look. Not that the disheveled look wasn’t; it was equally as appealing in a completely different way.

“Hey handsome,” she said as she neared the steps.

He jerked forward in surprise, his eyes opening quickly, and she wondered what it was that could have him so deep in thought that he didn’t hear her approaching in the heels she wore. “Hi,” he said quietly.

She started up the steps. “I’m sorry I’m late. I…”

“It’s fine. Do you need to go inside?”

She smiled brightly at him. “Nope, I’m all yours.”

He nodded and walked down the steps, passing her on the third one and continuing down to the sidewalk, then walking briskly towards his car. She stood and stared at him a second before trying unsuccessfully to catch up in her heels. He reached the car and opened her door, then turned around and waited for her as she caught up. “Sorry,” he said, a grimacing smile crossing his face and then disappearing.

“That’s ok. You alright?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t believe him. Something seemed off and she wished she could tell what it was. Once upon a time she’d been able to read him like a book. “You sure?”

He paused, closing his eyes for just a second, then stood a little taller and brighter. “Of course. I’m just starving. I hope you’re hungry, this place is fantastic.”

He wasn’t any more convincing, but she could tell he wanted to drop the subject, so she flashed him a smile. “I’m getting the risotto.”

“You’ve already had the risotto,” he teased as he took her hand and helped her into the seat.

“Two bites. I need more,” she said as she sat down and let him shut the door behind her. She watched as he walked around the front of the car, his usual walk replaced by… something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, defeat maybe. When he reached his door, he stopped and took a deep enough breath that she could see before opening the door and sitting down. He looked over at her and smiled again, a forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes, then started the car and drove down the block.

It was quiet. Four blocks without a word quiet. It hadn’t been that quiet between them in over a month, they tended to talk non-stop once they got going. She watched him out of the corner of her eye; his eyes glued to the road, his body stiff, his face almost haunted, and her excitement over the evening started turning into worry. 

“We ended up winning by thirty-three votes today,” she said at block six.

“Mmm….” he said before turning his head and glancing at her. “I heard. That’s great.” 

“Yeah.” 

It was block eight, as they rounded One Washington Circle, and she didn’t know why she was counting, before he spoke again. “Sam said to say hello.”

She turned from the window she was looking out. “Oh, that’s nice. Tell him I said hi.”

He nodded. “I will.”

Two more blocks and the valet was holding her door open for her. As she stepped out of the car, she looked back at Josh, gripping the steering wheel tightly enough for his fingers to turn white. She was tempted to get back in, put her hand over his and ask him to please tell her why he was upset. She’d help if he’d let her. That’s all she wanted from him; to be let in. 

He looked over then, his eyes meeting hers, and attempted to smile at her, seemingly determined to play the part he’d assigned himself. So she smiled back, pretending again that she didn’t notice, and waited on the sidewalk for him to round the car and join her in front of the restaurant. A host held the door open for them and once they were inside, she unbuttoned her coat and Josh took it from her shoulders and gave it to the woman at the coat check. He motioned for Donna to go in front of him as they were taken back to their table, walking behind her and for the first time in a long time, not touching her back. She told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t mention how she looked.

Their server met them at their table, calling Josh Mr. Lyman and asking if they’d like wine. Josh looked up at Donna with questioning eyes, but it wasn’t a celebration, not anymore, so she shook her head and said she’d start with water. Once they were alone again, the silence was heavy and loud and she opened her menu in hopes that it would relieve a little of the pressure. It didn’t.

She tried to read the menu, but couldn’t concentrate on it. They’d spoken that morning on the phone and he’d been fine; talkative, flirtatious, funny. Yet, at the moment, it seemed he’d rather be anywhere than with her. And then it occurred to her that maybe he was upset with her. She took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Are you…” 

He’d been looking at his menu and quickly jerked his head up, seemingly startled by the noise, and it made her stop mid-sentence. He waited several seconds for her to finish, but she wasn’t quiet sure how to word the question. “Am I what?” he asked, still giving her fake smiles that made her feel like she was standing in that Shell station all over again.

“Are you… upset with me for being late?”

His eyes widened. “Donna, I’m late every time we see each other. Sometimes days late.” He chuckled a bit as he said it, but it was forced and she wondered if he really thought he was pulling it off.

“You weren’t late tonight.” And tonight was more date-like, she wanted to add but didn’t. And she thought maybe that was it. Maybe he was angry because it was a date and she’d still been late.

“I was actually. Five minutes.”

“Still, you had to…”

“I’m not upset with you, Donna,” he said with a small smile.

“You’re sure, because I really am sorry. It wasn’t just my phone. It was my…”

“I’m sure.”

She nodded, trying to smile but failing, and looked back down at her menu just as their server walked up and put a glass of ice water down in front of her and a coke in front of Josh. “Have you decided?” he asked them.

Josh looked up at him and then over at Donna, who nodded. “I think so.” 

“Ma’am,” he said, turning to Donna.

She looked back into the menu she’d barely glanced at. “Which risotto do you recommend?”

He pointed to the second one. “The Risotto d’aragosta pomodori. It’s served with lobster, roasted tomatoes, truffle oil and a sweet basil. It’s one of my favorite things on the menu.”

She nodded, thankful for the friendly voice, and considered asking him to stay for dinner. “That sounds great.”

“It goes very well with the corn soup.”

“Ok.”

“Very well. Excellent choice.” He turned to Josh. “And for you?”

“How do you make your ribeye?”

“We pan roast it and top it with a mixture of onions, frisee, and gorgonzola cheese that have been tossed with a red wine vinaigrette. It’s very good.”

Josh closed his menu and handed it to him. “That’s fine, well done. And the house salad, please.”

Their server left and like a plague, it was back. She looked up at to see Josh staring at her and she smiled awkwardly at him. He smiled back, just as awkwardly, and unfolded his napkin. “So,” he asked, his voice going for but not quite achieving interest. “Did you get some calls today at work?” 

She leaned back in her chair. “I did, how did you know that?”

He shrugged. “People like to say thank you.”

She smiled. “It was nice. I appreciated it.”

“So, what’s next?”

The question startled her. Just two weeks earlier they’d discussed looking at federal regulations for foreign adoption together. “I’m not sure exactly,” she said cautiously. “I’m meeting with Michelle about several things on Monday. A program called First Chance, youth prison inmate rights… foreign adoption regulations.”

He nodded and silence descended once again. A minute, two, three passed and she wanted nothing more than to beg him to tell her what she’d done. She’d do anything to fix it, anything at all, if she just knew how. She could feel tears gathering in her eyes and she tried as inconspicuously as possible to dab at them with her napkin. She didn’t want to do this, to break down in front of him. She wasn’t hungry, wasn’t enamored by this place, wasn’t anything but miserable, and she just wanted to go home, pop open the bottle of wine Liz had given her, and cry herself to sleep.

Their server came soon after with Josh’s salad and her soup, but she couldn’t eat it. She just kind of stirred it around with her spoon as her stomach tied itself into knots.

“So, did you party hard today at work?” he asked in another fake voice a minute later.

She looked up and forced a smile she was sure was just as fake as his voice. “There might have been champagne involved.”

“Getting toasted at work, I guess,” he said with a faint smirk.

She really thought she might throw up, but still tried to laugh a little. “Like you aren’t getting wasted at all those state dinners.” 

“It’s a tough job.”

She shook her head and the familiar silence took over again. She lifted her spoon to her mouth, but couldn’t force herself to actually take the bite. And then she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried to drop the subject, she really had, but it was the center of attention. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

He looked up from his salad and smiled again. That horrible, horrible smile that made her think back to that wretched day in the Shell station. “I’m at a great restaurant with a beautiful woman. How could I be anything but ok?” He sounded almost sick to his stomach as he said it, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to leave. 

“We can do this another time, Josh,” she said, looking down into her bowl. 

“No,” he said almost loudly, causing her took look around the room to see if anyone had noticed. “Absolutely not. This is your big night.” 

Her big night? This was a disaster. “I’d rather have my big night when you want to have it with me.”

“Donna, I’m…”

“I know you’re really busy right now,” she said, trying to hold back her tears. She’d have to excuse herself to the restroom in a minute. She wouldn’t make it much longer. She looked at him with her bravest possible face, her lips twitching and her voice hitching. “We should just postpone.”

He put his napkin down and looked at the table and she thought finally. Finally he’d just call this what it was and let them leave before it became so bad that it couldn’t be fixed. Before this became the end of them before they even started. He looked around for a second, for their server to get the check she presumed, and then looked back at her with an honest face for the first time that evening. “I had a bad day. Let’s make it better.” 

“How?” she whispered. Because she’d do anything, anything it took.

“Dance with me,” he said as he looked off to the side.

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, but her eyes followed his to a small bar off to the side of the restaurant where she saw two couples dancing to music she couldn’t hear. She stared for a second, feeling hope for the first time all night, and smiled as she looked back to where he was sitting. He was gone, but then she felt his breath on her shoulder and his hands on her chair. She nodded and he pulled it out for her and led her into the bar. 

When they got to the dance floor, she watched as he took her shaking hand in his, holding it tenderly as if it were glass that could shatter. It felt amazing, safe and warm and…right, and she watched as his fingers moved softly back and forth, calming her nerves. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and they started dancing to a Tony Bennett song she’d never heard before. She looked up from their joined hands to see him studying her, but she could feel a tear threatening to slip over her bottom eyelid, so she looked past his shoulder and focused on the wall behind him, using her free hand to wipe it away before it slid down her cheek. They danced like that for a moment until he wrapped his arm further around her waist and pulled her closer. Their chests were lightly brushing against each other then and it felt even better than she’d remembered from the last time they’d danced four and a half years earlier. 

She looked back at him and he smiled; a genuine smile that told her he, they, were going to be ok. Then he turned his head and their cheeks rested against each other, the soft scratch of his five o’clock shadow making her feel feminine and taken care of. His thumb started making small patterns on her back and he stopped holding her other hand, using his fingers instead to dance around the skin of palm. It felt like nothing short of heaven, and she did the same thing to him, wishing she could watch how they touched each other, but not willing to move her head and lose contact with his cheek.

“See,” he whispered, his breath landing on her neck and ear. “This is much better.” 

She believed him. She didn’t know what had been wrong, but it had disappeared from the room nearly the second they’d touched. She didn’t know how that was possible, but it wasn’t new exactly. They’d had the same calming effect on each other all those years ago. 

The song switched and his hand on her back traveled up, meeting bare skin and making her breath catch. She wondered if it was an accident, if he’d move it back down where the dress covered her, but he didn’t, choosing instead to make tiny circles there on her skin. She hadn’t realized that such a simple movement could make her so warm until that very second, and she wrapped her arms further around his neck and slipped her fingers into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” she whispered into his ear.

He adjusted his grip, holding her a bit tighter and even closer, and she wondered what it would be like to pull back just a little bit and kiss him. “It’s not bad anymore,” he whispered back, which made her smile against his cheek and lay her head on his shoulder. 

It was three or four minutes later when he pulled back and nodded towards the restaurant. She smiled, but was nervous that the silence they’d left at the table would be there waiting for them when they returned. He led her back to her seat, pulling the chair out for her and leaving his hand on her back even as she sat down, then dragging it up her back slowly and letting it rest on her shoulder. He leaned down to her then, still standing behind her, and in a slightly husky voice, thanked her for the dance. A smile lit her face that he couldn’t see and she smiled, and only then did he lightly squeeze her shoulders and stand up to walk to his seat. 

He sat down and smiled across at her, his dimples visible and his eyes warm. “That looks pretty good,” he said, lightening the moment as he raised his hand and signaled their server to them.

She looked down at her risotto and then up at him. “It does. So does yours.” 

Their server walked up, and for the first time all evening, she wished he’d leave them the hell alone. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Yes,” Josh said, still looking at Donna. “You still prefer white wine?”

She beamed and nodded, loving that he remembered. That he seemed to remember everything about her, never having to ask or be corrected. She thought maybe that meant something, but she didn’t know what and wasn’t about to waste time thinking about it when he was looking at her like that. 

He turned to their server. “What white wines do you recommend with the risotto?” 

The young man thought for a second. “We have a wonderful bottle of 2003 Tocai Livio Felluga. It’s semi-sweet, from Friuli, Italy, and accents our risotto very well.”

Josh looked back to Donna with raised eyebrows and she nodded. “We’ll take a bottle,” he said to the server.

He nodded. “I’ll get it right away.”

He walked away and she leaned slightly in. “You didn’t ask if it would go with you’re steak.”

He leaned in towards her and smirked. “How ‘bout that. Did I mention that you look absolutely breathtaking tonight?”

Their eyes locked and she blushed, her alabaster skin never hiding her emotions well. “No,” she said, breathless herself.

“You’re stunning.” 

‘You look stunning, by the way.’ “Thank you,” she said softly, glancing down as both her smile and blush grew.

He sat back, still looking at her. “You gonna try that risotto?”

Her eyes widened. She’d actually forgotten it was there. Or where they even were for that matter. She looked down at her plate and picked up her fork, looking at him one more time before taking a bite. It was incredible and she moaned just a little bit. “Wow.”

“Yes?"

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said with a wink as their server arrived and poured them each a glass of wine. 

She couldn’t shut him up after that, and she didn’t want to. He told her about a congressional race in California where the democratic candidate was dead, about his mother taking ball room dancing and flirting with what he liked to call the ‘gomers’ in her class, and about Leo and how he and Josh’s father had been friends for years and that Leo had gotten him his first internship on the Hill. And she told him about the case study she was working on and her midterms the next week and her uncle’s minor heart attack and how her mom had changed her father’s diet after hearing about it and her father liked to call her now and complain that he never got anything fried anymore.

And before she knew it, it was 11:30. The wine was almost gone, they’d shared a piece of cheesecake, they’d danced again, and they were currently getting pretty nasty looks from their server. “We should get out of here,” she said, her eyes widening with surprise at how much like an offer it sounded. 

Josh didn’t seem to notice, but hesitated before nodding. “Yes.”

He stood up and pulled her chair out for her, then led her to the coatroom and helped her with her coat, leaning in close as he placed it on her shoulders and then gently pulling her hair out of it. The host held the door open for them and she slipped her arm through his as they walked outside and waited for the valet.

They didn’t talk much on the way back to her apartment, but it wasn’t the horrible, aching silence they’d endured on the way to the restaurant. It was simply quiet. NPR had switched to a light jazz and she rested her head on her seat and closed her eyes and listened to it as he tried unsuccessfully to hum along to it. It was cute, she thought. Like him.

He parked his car down the block from her building and got out, coming around to her side and opening her door for her, then offered her his hand and helped her out. Once she was standing, he adjusted his grip on her hand, linking their fingers together, and walked her to her door.

She was tempted to ask him inside and throw herself at him; she was after all, wearing new underwear that Liz claimed had a real purpose other than matching. And she’d made her bed. But her nerves got the best of her, and she quietly thanked him for the evening instead.

He paused, looking down at the ground before looking back at her. “Thank you. It was… just what I needed.”

She reluctantly pulled her hand free of his so she could get her keys from her purse and unlock the door, and when she turned back to say goodbye to him, he looked at her for a second and then leaned in and kissed her softly.

It was, she was certain, the most amazing moment in her life to date. Forget the bachelor’s degree or the bill passing or getting her acceptance letter to Georgetown. Each of those moments paled in comparison to the feel of his soft, warm lips pressed lightly to hers. 

It couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two, but it was by far the best kiss of her life. The only kiss really, at least the only one that mattered. And then his lips were gone and she smiled faintly and took a moment to memorize how it had felt. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her again, and he looked… young and happy and… amazed, and her smile widened.

“I meant to wait on that,” he said softly.

Her attention was on his lips, as if by just looking at them she could feel them again. “Why?” she breathed out, not quite having gained control of her voice.

He leaned on the building and shoved his hands into his pockets, smiling at her in that way of his that was meant to get him out of trouble. “I’ve got a busy ten days ahead of me. I didn’t want …” He shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

His lips were practically calling out to her, begging her to lean in and kiss them again, even as he told her he didn’t mean to the first time. She loved that about him; that he hadn’t meant to kiss her while he was so busy with work. At least, that’s what she thought he was saying. And while it was sweet and romantic and chivalrous, what she loved even more was that he hadn’t been able to help himself. She leaned into him, trying to act mature and not completely mesmerized by him, and wiped non-existent lipstick from his mouth because she just had to touch him again. “Well I’ve got midterms coming up. I might be pretty busy.”

His kissed her thumb as it passed over his lips and the flutter was back in her stomach. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “So I hope you won’t be offended if I can’t spend too much time with you for the next week or so.”

“No. Not at all,” he said, shaking his head and smiling widely at her. “I might have to kiss you again once more before I leave though.”

She would’ve preferred him to kiss her a hundred more times before he left, but tilted her head and smiled coyly at him. “I’m ok with that.” 

He put a hand on her waist and barely chuckled at her. His hand felt different than it had before; still secure, but also possessive, his fingers not quite but almost digging into her hip. It was unbelievable erotic, and she put her hand on his forearm and closed her eyes as he leaned in, waiting for those strong, soft lips to touch hers. She felt the fingers of his other hand lightly brushing over her lips and then he was kissing her again, the slightest bit stronger and more persistent. 

This kiss was longer. Long enough for his fingers to barely touch her cheek before drifting down to her neck. She shivered and sighed and lightly squeezed his forearm, feeling the muscles there move beneath her fingers. She leaned into him a bit more and tilted her head, sighing again as took her bottom lip between his lips, sucking for just a second, then pulling back and kissing the corner of her mouth as he ended the kiss.

He looked at her again and she could feel a blush climbing up from her neck onto her face but didn’t care. Josh Lyman had kissed her. It was a dream she thought would never come true.


	17. Stumbling into Life

She’d meant to get up early the next morning and spend the day studying. Midterms were that coming week, one on Tuesday and two on Thursday, and she was determined not to allow the Josh thing to make her grades slip. She’d already been that girl once in her life. 

Early however, turned into moderately early when it took her three hours to fall asleep after her date with Josh. So when the phone rang at nine o’clock Saturday morning, it woke her and she barely opened her eyes to check the caller id before answering. “Hello?”

“Am I interrupting anything?” Liz asked in a suggestive voice.

She laughed, falling back onto her pillow and closing her eyes again. “Only my sleep.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Not at all. I had a spectacular evening.”

“You did, huh?” Liz asked in a leading voice.

She yawned reached for her glasses on the night stand. “The conversation was amazing, the food was excellent, the ambiance was wonderful, the music was soft and romantic, the...”

“I don’t give a shit about any of that. You know what I’m after here.”

Donna laughed and shook her head. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That’s because you don’t kiss!” Liz yelled into the phone.

“Au Contraire, my friend,” she replied, thankful Liz couldn’t see the giddy school-girl smile on her face. How it was someone thirteen years her elder could make her feel like the homecoming queen, she wasn’t quite sure, but somehow he never failed to.

“You kissed?”

“We did indeed.”

“Finally,” Liz said in an exasperated voice. “I was about to tell you to throw this one back. Was it a peck on the cheek kiss or a get to know the inner workings of his tongue kiss?”

“I told you, I don’t kiss and tell. It was amazing, that’s all you need to know.”

“Just because that’s all you’re willing to tell me doesn’t mean that’s all I need to know.”

“So noted,” Donna said with a chuckle, climbing out from under her down comforter and padding into the kitchen to make coffee.

“At least tell me if you were vertical or horizontal.”

“I don’t recall asking you any of these questions when you started dating Tom. Tom, whom you waited more than five years to have sex with, Miss ‘When are you gonna get it on.’” She hit the preset button on her coffee maker and pulled a cup from the cabinet.

“That’s different. Tom was going to be the last man I ever slept with. You don’t want to rush a thing like that.”

“Exactly,” Donna said slowly and pointedly. 

“Exa... ohhh… Really?”

Donna almost laughed at Liz’s voice. “Really.”

“So you’re… you know, in… the ‘L’ word with Josh Lyman?”

“Madly,” she said with a smile.

“Yet three weeks ago, you said you had a small inclination towards him that some could consider a very slight, almost miniscule, attraction.”

“Yeah,” Donna said, putting her coffee cup under the stream of the brewing coffee. “That was a lie.”

“I knew it!”

Donna’s other line beeped. “Can’t get one past you. Hold on.” She looked at the display. “I gotta go. That’s Kelly.”

“Kelly? Are you cheating on me with a new friend?”

Donna shook her head. “I’m simply doing a case study with her for ‘Juveniles and the Courts.’ I gotta go.” 

“But… what about lunch?” Liz asked, an almost panicked sound to her voice.

“What about it?”

“I called to see if you want to get Mexican.”

“I’m going to gain weight during this pregnancy, aren’t I?”

“La Frontera’s at one.”

“Kay.” 

********** 

They talked every day that next week. He’d ask about her midterms or tell her the latest polling numbers, she’d ask how the congressional races were looking or complain about the guy in front of her driving fifteen miles under the speed limit. Their conversations were always brief and light and ended up with both of them laughing, and she was glad, because he sounded utterly exhausted. 

They tried to meet for dinner on Tuesday night, but a meeting she had with Liz, Michelle, and the Board of Directors at the Council took longer than expected. The First Choice program she and Liz had put together two years earlier had finished its second year and fourth set of classes, and the results were better than they’d hoped for. They’d tried again on Friday for lunch, but a last minute issue with a bill had Josh rushing to the Hill to fix it, and he’d called Jonathan’s and had lunch delivered to her office with an apology note for her and cheesecake for Liz.

With her midterms finally over, she started working on her case study with Eric, Carrie and Kelly. They’d chosen a landmark case in which a woman had given her child up for adoption at birth stating the father was a one-night stand whose name she didn’t know, and the father had found out and sued for custody five years later. It was a great case that Donna loved, but she was glad they’d waited until after midterms to start on it, because it was proving to be quite complicated.

She spent most of that next Sunday doing research on similar cases, leaving the library around four and checking her cell as she started the drive home. Josh had called several hours earlier, and she dialed his office, hoping to get him. It never happened, but she always hoped. “Josh Lyman’s office,” April said as she picked up.

“April, hi,” she said in a fake but polite voice. “It’s Donna Moss. How are you?” 

“He’s in with Sam. I’ll see if he has a minute,” April said, ignoring her question altogether.

“Thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She’d never say anything to Josh, but she hadn’t found even one thing about that woman that she liked. 

She waited on hold for a few minutes, but with Election Day on Tuesday, she knew he was completely swamped. She pictured what his desk, his entire office actually, must’ve looked like, and it brought a smile to her face. Recently she’d been thinking of the first election; of sitting in front of her television until three o’clock that next morning waiting for the news channels to start calling the election in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. She still felt it even now that they’d come full circle, that dull ache she’d walked around with all those years. She didn’t quite know how to let it go.

“Hey,” he answered a few minutes later in a resigned voice.

“I haven’t seen you in eight days.”

“Believe me, I know,” he said in a tired voice. She could picture him in his office, slumped over a packet of information with his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, his jacket off and his hair askew, and it made her smile.

“I’ve decided I don’t care for it.”

“I don’t care for it much myself,” he said more playfully. “We’re going to have to rectify the situation.”

“Yeah? How do you propose we do that?” she asked doubtfully. “You’re a tad bit busy for two more days.”

“I’ll never make it two more days,” he said almost desperately, and for the first time she found herself believing that he was in this thing as deeply as she was. It was an unbelievable feeling and she suddenly found herself fighting tears. “I’m going through withdrawal. April and Sam are about to kill me.”

“Why?”

“I might be a bit on the grumpy side,” he said, stressing the might. She could picture his face contorting and chuckled. 

“Grumpy, huh? I am pretty hard to live without.”

“You have no idea.” And that soft, gravelly voice of his was back, making her shiver in anticipation.

“So, how do you propose we rectify the situation?” she asked, hoping she disguised the sound of near-begging with something more along the lines of anticipation.

“Well,” he paused and she resigned herself to wait for him to sigh and say he couldn’t get away. “What if I mysteriously disappeared tonight, say around… seven, only to reappear around 9:30?”

A smile started tugging her lips as her pulse started racing. Because if she was going to see Josh that evening, she might possibly get to kiss Josh that evening. And as she’d always suspected, kissing him once, even twice, was simply not enough. “And your location during this mysterious absence?” she asked, looking down to see her hands shaking on the steering wheel.

“Someplace where I won’t run into anyone from congress, the press, my staff, or Ritchie’s staff.”

She started thinking of restaurants in the area, but he was right; they’d just be bombarded with people wanting a minute of his time. She’d rather have him alone, and the thought of it gave her an idea. “I think I know a place just like that,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“You do?” he asked with a doubtful chuckle.

“I do indeed,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “There’s a townhouse on Olive Street NW. It’s nothing fancy, a red paisley couch and lots of plants, but they’re serving a home-cooked dinner tonight.”

“Home-cooked?” he asked almost in awe.

She racked her mind for something other than chicken and green beans, her staple food. She needed something impressive but relatively easy, something she couldn’t mess up too badly. “I believe tonight’s menu is… chicken breast stuffed with feta cheese, steamed broccoli, and a salad with a light vinaigrette dressing.”

“That sounds amazing,” he said almost in awe.

“Yeah?” she asked, biting her lip. “Should I make you a reservation?”

“Yes.”

She fought the urge to squee like a child and tried her best to remain calm. “Ok. See you tonight. And be nice to Sam and April.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She hit end and flipped the phone shut, then flipped it back open to make sure the call had disconnected. Then she started rambling to herself. She had to go to the grocery store, she had to do something with her hair, she had to clean the apartment… there were a million things to do in three hours, and the top priority was to find out how to make chicken breast stuffed with feta cheese. She picked up her cell again.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hi,” her mother said warmly. “What’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

“Name it,” she said in that unconditional voice of hers that Donna had leaned on over and over again.

“I’m making dinner for Josh tonight and I need Grandma’s chicken and feta cheese recipe.”

The line was quiet for a second. “You’re making dinner for Josh?” 

“Yes,” she said proudly.

“Ok…” he mother drew out. “Do you have a pen?”

“I’m pulling into the grocery store now. Hold on just a sec.”

She could hear a chair being pulled out from the kitchen table and pictured her mother sitting there with her recipe file box and a cup of coffee. “How did midterms go?”

“Good, I think. I should get my grades back this week. And I started my case study yesterday, it’s going to be a big one.”

“And you’re going to have enough time for it? With… everything else.”

“Yeah, of course.” She pulled into a parking spot and turned off the ignition, then took a pen from her purse. “Ok, I’m ready.”

“Ok…” She hesitated and Donna started to speak again. 

“Mom?”

“Can I just say something first? Then I’ll leave it alone.”

“Ok…” Donna said curiously.

“You don’t have to try to impress him, Honey.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to try to impress him. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, witty, kind woman. You don’t have to…”

“Mom,” Donna interrupted. “I’m not trying to impress him.”

“Donna,” she said as if telling her something she’d never heard. “You don’t cook.” 

Donna laughed. “I know. I’m not… he didn’t want to go to a restaurant this close to Election Day. He’d be tackled by reporters and politicians. I thought it would be nice to do something quiet.”

“Oh. Well, ok then.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you for indulging me.”

“I’m being very adult about this Mom. You’d be impressed.”

“I’m always impressed by you.”

“Still. I’m not letting my grades slip, if that’s what you were trying to ask. And I’m not rushing into anything. I’m getting to know him all over again; we’re getting to know each other. And there’s a whole new dynamic. We’re on equal footing now and if we make this work, and you know I hope we do, we’ll be sharing our lives, not living his.”

“Yeah?”

“He wouldn’t want anything else, Mom.”

“Ok.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I just worry.”

“I know you do.”

****************

Her mom talked her through the chicken, which turned out to be easier than she thought it would be. There was an olive oil mishap that had her changing clothes, but she tossed on shorts and a t-shirt for the time being. Once the chicken was prepared but still uncooked, she made the salad and cleaned the broccoli, then straightened up the living room and did the dishes. She was usually a neat person, but  
midterms and finals always brought out her inner slob.

She once again made her bed, which seemed ridiculous since he only had two hours and they'd only kissed twice, but she'd been wanting to have sex with him for going on five years, so chances were if he  
asked she was going to say yes. 

He was late, which was a good thing, because she'd just finished putting the vacuum cleaner away when he rang the buzzer. She buzzed him in and looked at herself in the mirror; no make-up, hair in a  
pony tail, an old t-shirt she'd stolen from him. It wasn't her best look and she quickly washed her face as she heard him knock.

She opened the door and sucked in a quick breath at his wrinkled shirt and loosened tie. His suit coat was on but unbuttoned, and she wondered if he knew how well he wore the disheveled look. "Cute  
shirt," he said with a dimpled grin that led her to believe he knew exactly where she'd gotten it.

"Thanks," she said, once again amazed that he remembered so much about her. "Come in." …and kiss me, she thought. Come in and kiss me.

He took a step inside and let the door close behind him, but instead of kissing her, he just looked at her. She wondered if he was waiting for her to kiss him, and she was about to do just that when he said, "I brought flowers."

She dragged her eyes from his lips and looked down at flowers hanging upside down from his hand. "They look… nice," she said with an amused voice.

"Oh," he said and held them up for her. "Here."

Lilies. She'd lived with Michael for four years and he'd tried to win her back with roses, but she'd mentioned to Josh once in passing that lilies were her favorite, and he'd remembered four and a half  
years later.

"Wow," she whispered, reaching for them and brushing her fingers against his. Instead of letting her take the flowers, he linked their hands together, then leaned in and kissed her lightly. It was a short, almost questioning kiss that left her wanting more. He  
pulled back and she leaned into him slightly, her eyes closed and his breath on her lips. "I was hoping you were going to do that again," she whispered.

And apparently that was all the answer he needed, because he looked at her for a split second and then leaned in and kissed her like they'd been doing it forever. His lips were insistent on hers; slow  
and warm and wet and laced with coffee. His tongue toyed with her lips and she both moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into his warm, toned body, and almost pushing him into the door behind him.

She twirled her fingers in his hair, a lock twisting perfectly around her index finger, and he leaned farther into the door and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body and making her sigh.

She opened her mouth and his tongue moved slowly inside, barely brushing against hers before retreating back into his own mouth. He did this two more times, each time readjusting his mouth on hers and sucking slightly on her lip as he almost pulled away before going back in for more of her. And then his tongue slid against hers slowly, moving in circles with her, and their mouths were pressed deeper together than she thought possible.

One of his hands left her waist and started toying with her hair, eventually just pulling the ponytail out to give him more access, and she moaned again and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He groaned and pushed his tongue back into her mouth as his hand went  
just slightly under her shirt, and then she was sighing and wrapping her hands tighter around his neck as she pulled away and gasped for air.

He kissed a path across her face to her jaw and then her neck, pausing at her ear and nibbling lightly. He sucked it into his mouth and she gasped his name, loving the way it sounded on her lips like that, and then he was kissing her mouth again before he pulled back and cupped her face in his hands, studying her and telling her she was beautiful.

Her body protested as she stood upright, her hands still around his neck. She smiled and pulled them down slowly, then glanced down at the floor and noticed the flowers long forgotten in a heap at her  
feet, and laughed.

"Oops."

She looked at him with a smile and leaned in, kissing him thoroughly again before pulling away. "I'll get a vase."

He kissed her one more time, his teeth nipping at her lips, before letting her go, and she picked up the flowers and walked into the kitchen. She got a vase from the pantry and put the lilies in it, and he took them from her and put them on the table, then poured  
them each a glass of wine while she put their food on plates. When he handed her the glass he'd poured for her, their fingers touched again and he whispered, "I'm gonna have to kiss you again now."

She smiled at his announcement. He'd done that the week before too, and she found it unbelievably adorable. "Let's try not to drop anything this time," she said as she leaned in the final inch, catching his lips with hers.

The glasses clanked together just a bit before he brought his hands up to her face. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones back and forth as he kissed her again. His kisses were so slow, as if there was all the time in the world. He didn't move his head, choosing instead to kiss her the same way in the same spot over and over until her knees were weak and her lip swollen. Only then did he tilt his head and attack the other side of her mouth the same way,  
listening to and even matching the sounds she found escaping her.

When he pulled back, minutes later, he left his lips resting against hers, his breath hot and sexy against her skin. "We should eat," she said quietly.

"Just one more," he whispered before pulling her close and kissing her again.

**********

"Would you like to wash or dry?" she asked, waving a towel and a sponge at him.

He looked at her with a questioning gaze and then chose the towel. "I'll dry."

"You don't know where things go."

He shrugged. "I'll guess."

She smiled and turned on the hot water while he poured them each another glass of wine. "How's the race in Orange County going? Is Sam going to be a congressman?" she asked as she started on the  
silverware.

Josh leaned against the front of the counter. "He's in denial. They're down by four points and he's pretending it's more like fourteen." She handed him some spoons and he dried them and then started rooting around her kitchen drawers.

"Two drawers down." He put them away and left the drawer open then came over and took the forks from her hand while kissing her neck. She smiled and started washing a salad bowl.

"You know," he said. "When you meet my mom, you have to tell her I helped with the dishes. She'll never believe me."

A rush of excitement over his use of the word `when' instead of `if' hit her just as a feeling of dread came over her at meeting the woman she'd lied to in order to see him in the hospital. "Well, when  
you meet my mom, you'll have to tell her I didn't ruin the chicken."

He leaned in close to her and took the bowl. "I loved the chicken," he said softly before kissing her nose. She smiled and he winked at her before searching cabinets one by one. She watched him without  
saying anything, finally laughing when he turned to her and pathetically whined, "Help."

"You should've washed," she said smiling as she pointed to another cabinet.

He put the bowls away and came back to the sink, kissing her on the neck again while she washed a larger bowl that held the broccoli. "But this way I can kiss you and you can't stop me, cause your hands are wet," he mumbled into her skin.

She shook her head but smiled. "If I wanted to stop you, which I don't, wet hands wouldn't keep me from doing it." He smirked at her and she leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

"Are you succumbing to my charm?" he asked playfully as he took the bowl from her hands and dropped it back into the sink. His hands on her neck gently turned her until she was between him and the counter.

She watched his eyes as they watched his fingertips tracing over her lips. They turned from playful to dark and intense, and it made her feel sexy and wanted and she wrapped his tie up in her fingers and  
pulled his face down closer to hers. "Yes," she whispered, capturing his bottom lip between hers and nipping it lightly before deepening the kiss.

He made the sexiest noise she'd ever heard in her life and moved his hands down to her waist, brushing his fingertips up and down her sides, coming close to but never quite touching her breasts. Her arms slid up his chest and back around his neck, and he leaned into her and moved his mouth from hers back to her ear. She'd never known her ear to be a hotspot for her, but for the second time that night, she'd gasped his name as he'd pulled her earlobe into his mouth.

"Is this ok?" he whispered and she had no idea if he was talking about the kissing or the ear or his hands on her body, but it was all perfectly ok with her and she whispered yes and kissed his neck.

They continued kissing until they were both out of breath and his forehead was resting against hers. He pulled back and smiled at her and she toyed with the dish towel that was draped over his shoulder. "You put my bowl back in the sink. Now I have to re-wash  
it."

He grinned a huge dimpled grin at her. "I'm really sorry."

She couldn't help smiling at him. "You don't look sorry."

"How `bout that."

She leaned in and kissed him lightly just as her cell phone rang. "My niece had her first piano recital tonight," she mumbled. "She promised to call me with details. I should get that."

He kissed her on the forehead and she grabbed his towel and dried her hands as she walked into the living room and pulled her cell out of her purse. She looked at the caller id and winced. She was not in  
the mood to deal with Michael, but if it was important enough to warrant three calls in one day, she figured she should take it. Sighing, she answered. "Michael, hi."

"Hi. How are you?"

"Busy but good," she said, hoping he'd take the hint. "You?"

"Fine, thanks," he said uneasily before pausing. "Donna, I need… is next semester your last?"

"I haven't decided yet," she said, even though it wasn't the complete truth. She'd graduate in May, but would still have to take the bar exam. Each summer, the college offered a bar prep coarse, and she'd been considering it even though she loathed summer classes.

"When do you register for spring classes?"

"Next week."

"Ok. Can you fax me the bill as soon as you get it? I'm not trying to be an ass, but Tina and I are getting married in February and she's not… comfortable with our arrangement."

She wanted to ask if Tina was comfortable with the fact that the two of them weren't paying off a hundred thousand dollars in student loans, but she took a deep breath instead. "I'll be home in three  
weeks, let's talk about it then."

"Yeah, ok. Give me a call when you get to town."

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon. We'll figure it out."

He said goodbye and hung up, and she looked at the display for just a second before dropping the phone into her purse and walking back into the kitchen. Josh was leaning against the counter and hadn't  
done a single thing without her. "You know, I wouldn't have minded if you'd just kept going with the dishes," she said, hoping she sounded less on edge than she felt.

He looked up at her. "What?"

"Never mind, it was a joke. How `bout you wash and I dry now so I can sneak kisses of your neck?" She leaned in and kissed him, and he jerked back and away from her, stumbling against the counter and staring at her like he was in shock. "Are you ok?" she asked as she reached for his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," he said in a harsh voice.

"What?" she asked, surprise written in her eyes.

"Don't touch me."

She took a step back to give him room. Something was wrong and she thought maybe he was going to be ill. "Ok. Josh," she said quietly. "What's wrong?"

He looked away from her off towards the wall, but didn't move away from the counter. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" she asked, confused.

"Touching me? Pretending you…"

"What?"

He looked back at her and stared at her, the same dead eyes he'd had when she'd run into him and Sam at lunch earlier that summer. "Why are you leaving me again?" he asked in a choked whisper.

She shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard you Donna," he said softly. "I heard you tell him you'd be home in three weeks. I heard you say it. Why are you leaving me for him again?" he almost begged to know.

Her heart broke at the sound of his voice and the word `again.' They'd never discussed it; her leaving was on their unspoken taboo list and she'd hoped to leave it there. "Josh, I'm not…" 

"Yes you are," he said loudly, startling her and making her jump a bit. "You're leaving again! For him! For that bastard! Why?" He stopped shouting and looked at her before whispering. "Why?"

She needed to tell him that she loved him, that she'd never leave him again. That she shouldn't have left him the first time. That it had been a mistake and she'd been miserable and broken for years. But those were the things she was most afraid of saying. Those were the things she'd never said aloud, not even to her mother, and she didn't know how to voice them. "He's not a bastard, Josh," she found  
herself saying instead.

"Don't!" he said through gritted teeth. "Don't defend him to me."

"You don't know anything about him," she said, shaking her head. But it didn't come out right; she meant to say that he meant nothing to her, that he was just a means to an end. She meant to make him  
understand that he wasn't a threat, that he wasn't anything to her anymore.

"I know he used you. I know he cheated on you."

Shock hit her like a bullet. She tilted her head and whispered. "No he didn't."

"Yes he did."

"No, Josh," she said, shaking her head. "He didn't cheat on me. We had a fight, a string of them actually, and broke up." This wasn't important. Michael wasn't important. She had to… she had to say it. 

He was hurt and angry and had every right to be, and she was making it about Michael when it had nothing to do with him. She took a tentative step towards him, shaking and fighting tears. "Josh, why is this coming up now? Why are you bringing up the past? Because he called? I'll tell you what we talked about, it's not a secret."

"I know what you talked about," he said with venom in his voice. "You talked about the fact that you're leaving me in three weeks."

"No," she said adamantly. She reached out for him again and he jerked away, sliding out from between her and the counter and walking to the other side of the kitchen.

"Yes," he said, withdrawn. "Yes."

"I'm not…"

"Will you be back Donna?" he asked, cutting her off and looking directly at her. "Someday, just when I think I'm going to be able to live a normal life without you, will you come back to pull me in  
again? With your smile and your eyes and that way you have of…" he stopped abruptly, choking on his words. "I'm so pathetic. I almost hope you do."

He was saying something, something important, but she was crying and confused and couldn't quite dissect it. "Josh, I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't understand," he yelled. "How could you? How could you know what it's like to… to walk into your office one day and find that note? To have everything change in mere seconds. To not understand what…" He stopped again, taking several breaths and looking away from her before whispering. "What I did to make you leave."

He stood there, shaking and angry and hurting in a way she'd never seen before, wanting to be anywhere in the world than there with her. And she'd done that to him; made him think for years that he hadn't been enough. That she'd left for someone better. That was why he hated Michael so much. There was more too, but she couldn't put it together. All she could think of was that she'd left him to save herself, and in the process she'd done the one thing in the world  
she never wanted to do, she'd hurt him. She could feel tears sliding down her face, but she ignored them and walked up to him, slowly, trying not to startle him, and after pausing for just a second, she  
put her hands on his cheeks and tilted his face up to hers. "You didn't do anything. You were amazing," she whispered fiercely. "Amazing."

His eyes met hers and his changed instantly. He turned his head and pulled away from her, then took a step backwards. "I have to leave."

"Josh, don't," she said, wrapping her hand around his arm. "Please don't."

He pulled away again and walked into the living room. "I have to."

She couldn't let him go. Couldn't let him walk out of her life. She couldn't lose him again, she'd never live through it. "Why?" she pleaded. "Why do you have to? Because I did? Because I left? "

He spun around and looked at her. "No," he said adamantly, all traces of anger out of his voice. He reached his hand up and brushed her cheek with his thumb. His voice got softer as he stood closer to her, and she could feel herself shaking. "No. No, that's not why."

"Then why?" she asked through her tears.

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and she wrapped her hand around his forearm and thought for just a second that everything would be ok. Then he looked at her. "Because you're crying and I did  
that to you and I won't keep doing it."

She gripped him tighter and shook her head. "They're just tears Josh. They don't matter. Let's fix this. We're building something wonderful here. I don't want to lose it. I don't want to lose you, not again." She was begging him then, desperate for him to stay.  
Desperate to make him see that she needed him.

He shook his head. "I can't stay here and hurt you."

Tears became sobs. "It'll hurt more if you leave," she whispered.

"I'll be back," he said, resting his palm against her tear stricken face. 

"Don't go," she begged, breaking down, her chest heaving and her whole body shaking.

"I have to," he said he said gently, his own eyes red with unshed tears. "I have to go and fix this… I have to go. I know you don't understand and I promise I'll explain it. I promise. But I have to go."

She turned her head and kissed his palm. "Please don't."

He leaned in, pulling her face to his, and kissed her softly as he continued wiping her tears away with his thumb. She put her arms around his neck, holding onto him as tightly as she could, and tried to deepen the kiss, to pull him in and never let him go, but he  
pulled back and away from her again. "I'll be back," he whispered again, kissing her knuckles before dropping them, then picking up his jacket and leaving.

She watched the door close, then sank to the floor, sobbing.


	18. Stumbling into Life

She watched the door close, then sank to the floor, sobbing. It couldn’t be happening again. She couldn’t be losing him again. She wasn’t strong enough. She wouldn’t make it. Not again. 

She was crying loudly, and so hard that she couldn’t breathe. It didn’t make sense, none of it. They’d been… it had been perfect; the most wonderful night of her life. Easy and fun and romantic and something she could’ve done every night for the rest of her life. And then, just like that… ‘Don’t touch me.’

She tried to get up, but she couldn’t; she was crying too hard. He’d been… he’d kissed her. But then he’d left. ‘I have to leave.’ And there was more, something important, something she needed to know, but her head was killing her and the crying was only making it worse, and she couldn’t think... ‘You’re leaving again.’

He’d seemed… her heart was racing and she was lightheaded. And she needed a tissue or… was the water running in the kitchen? ‘Why are you doing this?’ She was starting to hyperventilate. He’d been afraid of her, maybe? 'Don’t touch me.’ She wasn’t… it wasn’t making sense. It was all swimming around in her head; words, actions, it was all there jumbled up like a puzzle that she couldn’t put together. 'Will you be back, Donna?'

Her phone was on the coffee table, and if she could get to it, maybe she could call him. Beg him to come back. Tell him she loved him and she didn’t know what she’d done, but whatever it was, she was sorry for it. ‘Because I left?’ She was sorry and she’d do anything she had to do, anything at all, to make up for it. That’s how badly she needed him in her life. It wasn’t an option or a desire. It was need, and if she could just call him, she could make him see that. 

She tried to stand again, crying harder and harder as she pictured him time and again walking out the door. ‘I’ll be back,’ She finally made it to the couch, but the coffee table might as well have been miles away. Her chest hurt, so did her stomach. She thought she might vomit. And her face… hot and sticky and wet. Michael, he’d been upset about Michael. Why had he… ‘For that bastard!’

She had to calm down; she had to breathe. Deep breaths. Slow. She had to think, she had to… ‘Will you come back to pull me in again?’ Pull him in, she’d never…. she’d never hurt him. ’What I did to make you leave.’

She couldn’t think about it. She was too tired. Her head was killing her. She was going to be sick. Her stomach… ’Someday, just when I think I’m going to be able to live a normal life without you, will you come back to pull me in again?’ Going to be able to live… she shook her head. It wasn’t making sense. She was missing something.

She closed her eyes. The water was running, she could hear it. Breathe in for two seconds. Breathe out for two seconds. Breathe in… ‘With your smile and your eyes.’ His eyes, they’d been almost… dead. She’d never seen that much betrayal before. Breathe out… ‘I’m so pathetic. I almost hope you do.’ 

She sat up, opening her eyes and staring at the coffee table. It was right there. Whatever it was, it was right there, she almost had it. ‘Will you come back to pull me in again?’ It was important. She didn’t know why, but it was important. ‘Again.’

She looked over to the kitchen. He’d been standing on the far side, the island between them like… like it was protecting him from her. ‘Someday, just when I think I’m going to be able to live a normal life without you.’

The truth hit her like lightening, and she bolted up off the couch and into the bathroom, not quite making the toilet and vomiting on the crimson rug in front of it. Her head was pounding and her stomach swirling and vomiting turned into dry heaves as she leaned heavily on the commode. 

He’d loved her too.

********** 

It took her a while to process what was happening. She was stuck somewhere in that place between asleep and awake, and it wasn’t until she actually opened her eyes that she figured out the noise was someone at the door. She groaned and rolled over, squinting at the clock. Five till three. 

Then her mind went to Josh, and she quickly sat up and pulled her covers back. Maybe he was ready to talk. He promised he’d be back, promised, and she’d been living off that promise for the past four days. She turned on the lamp by her bed and the harsh light hurt her eyes, forcing her to wince and close them quickly. She rubbed them with her hand and squinted them open, then looked down at the nightstand and felt around for her glasses, slipping them on before standing up. The knocking had turned into more of a pounding by then, and her heart matched it, strong and quick.

She hurried into the living room, fixing the ponytail in her hair as she walked. Her cell phone started ringing and she grabbed it on he way to the door and looked at it to see Tom’s name on the display. “Tom?” 

“Donna! Is Liz there? She left and she didn’t take her purse or her phone. I went to her place, but she’s not there and I don’t know where she is, and what if something happens to her and she can’t call…” 

He was rambling and she cut him off, all hopes of Josh being on the other side of her door gone. “She’s knocking on my door right now.”

She could hear him sigh. “Oh thank God.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ok.” Another deep breath. “Ok, good.”

Liz called her name and started knocking even louder. “I’ve got to let her in, Tom.”

“Right. Right. Just… just tell her that I’m going back to my place and I’ll wait there for her. And… tell her I love her.”

Donna paused. She wasn’t up to this. Not this week; any other time she would’ve been fine to handle Tom and Liz’s first big fight, but she was utterly spent this week. It was taking every ounce of energy she had to simply exist. “Alright,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Thanks, Donna,” he said, relief evident in his voice. The line clicked off and she unlocked the door, pulling it open as light from the hallway invaded the small living room. Liz stood outside, wearing red plaid flannel pajama bottoms, a grey Indiana University sweatshirt and sandals. Her hair resembled that of Pebbles from ‘The Flintstones,’ and if Donna wasn’t an emotional wreck she might have laughed.

“The idiot proposed,” Liz said loudly, not bothering with hello. She walked past Donna into the apartment and directly into the kitchen. A second later the kitchen light came on. “Is my ice cream still here?”

Donna looked at her for a second through the bar that separated the kitchen and living room, then shut and locked the door. “Yes.” She walked into the kitchen to see Liz pulling a spoon out of the silverware drawer. “Tom proposed?” she asked, trying to muster up some amount of excitement for her friend and instead finding herself almost envious.

“Yes. Idiot.”

That was the second time in less than a minute that she’d called him that. “Did he… do it poorly?” 

Liz turned to her, her spoon sticking out of her mouth. “I’m pregnant, Donna!” she shouted, the words barely understandable around the spoon.

Donna was missing something, she was sure of it, but she was so tired. She hadn’t slept well all week, finding that just like years earlier, it was in the dark silence of the night that her mind replayed every mistake she’d ever made with Josh. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Liz,” she said in a voice more testy than she’d intended. “I’m practically in a coma here.”

“Donna! I’m pregnant. He’s... doing the right thing,” she spit out. “Bastard.”

Donna looked shocked. “He said that?”

“He didn’t have to. Do you have brownie mix?”

The subject change threw her for a loop and she once again blamed it on a lack of sleep. “No I don’t have brownie mix,” she said, leaning heavily back against the counter and letting her head hang. “Let’s go back… when did he propose?”

Liz put the pint of ice cream back into the freezer. “About 20 minutes ago,” she said distractedly as she started rooting around the refrigerator.

“He proposed at 2:30 in the morning? What were you doing at…” Her face registered disgust and maybe a little jealousy. “You were having sex, weren’t you?”

“No. I’d gotten up to pee. I pee all the damn time now.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I must’ve woken him when I got up, ‘cause when I came back into the bedroom, he was sitting up against the headboard. I started to crawl back into bed and he said it.”

“Said it…”

Liz pulled her head out of the fridge and looked over her shoulder at Donna. “Marry me, Donna. He said ‘marry me.’ You’re useless!”

“Hey,” Donna shouted, standing upright and going to the refrigerator with Liz. “I’m not emotionally equipped to handle this right now. I’m doing the best I can.” She pushed Liz gently out of the way and grabbed some eggs and milk, then stood up and walked towards the stove. “I’m making omelets,” she mumbled. “Get the cheese and ham.”

Liz stood upright and stared at her for several seconds. “I didn’t… you’ve been acting ok.”

“I am ok,” Donna lied as she pulled down a bowl from a cabinet, avoiding Liz’s eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed. She and her mother had dissected every second of the conversation, every miniscule detail, coming to the same unfathomable conclusion she had on Sunday night. Josh had feelings for her when she worked for him and when she left, she’d broken his heart the way she’d broken her own. She wouldn’t have wished that pain on her worst enemy yet she’d caused it for him, and she doubted she’d ever forgive herself for that. “No,” she said, taking a deep breath and looking back at Liz with a fake smile. “See if I have an onion too.” 

Liz continued watching her and Donna gave her a look that begged her not to push it. She nodded slightly. “I want mushrooms and pepper too. And salsa. And sour cream.”

“That’s gross,” Donna replied with a hollow chuckle. “See what I’ve got in there.” She pulled a whisk from a drawer. “So, Tom said ‘marry me’ and then what? What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I left.”

“You didn’t say anything? Nothing at all?”

“No. I panicked. I walked into the living room, threw on some shoes, grabbed his sweatshirt and my keys, and left.”

“Very mature of you.”

Liz dropped an armful of things onto the counter. “You don’t have mushrooms.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me since I’m allergic to them. What’s the bread for?”

“Toast. And what was I supposed to do? Say no and crawl back into bed?” She grabbed a knife out of a drawer and started slicing vegetables.

It was quiet while Donna cracked four eggs into a bowl and then poured in some milk. She looked at Liz out of the corner of her eye as she whisked the mixture. “He called here looking for you.”

“I know,” Liz said quietly. “I heard your phone ring.”

“He was worried.”

“I was fine.”

Donna looked at her and spoke with more authority in her voice. “You left with no money, no id, and no phone. You’re two months pregnant with his child; he had every right to worry.”

She sighed. “Yeah.”

Donna reached down and pulled a large skillet out of the bottom of her oven. She sprayed some Pam into it and poured in the eggs. “He loves you, you know.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’ve never even discussed getting married. Then I get pregnant and suddenly he’s proposing? He feels trapped.”

“He doesn’t feel trapped,” Donna scoffed as she turned on the heat. 

“He will; in a year or two or ten. He’ll wake up one morning and hate me because I got knocked up and tricked him into marrying me.”

Donna stopped what she was doing and looked pointedly at Liz. “Wow. I had no idea you thought so little of him.”

“I don’t,” Liz said with a sigh, rubbing her hands over her face and then putting both hands on the counter and leaning into it while hanging her head. “I don’t, I just…” She took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Why now?” she whispered.

Donna added the vegetables and ham to the eggs and folded them over, carefully considering her words. She finally leaned back against the counter next to Liz. “I’m going to say something you’ve heard in a thousand movies, but believe me when I tell you I’m saying it with authority.”

“I’m not in the mood for meant to be, Donna,” she said in a voice that betrayed the tears she tried hiding.

Donna shook her head and smiled softly. “You love him. You’re assuming he doesn’t love you, at least not as much. How could he? He’s wonderful, right?” Liz stood straighter and looked at her, eyes shining and cheeks wet, and nodded. “He’s way too good for you. He could have any woman he wants.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. 

It was a feeling she knew well and she closed her eyes briefly, remembering the night she stood in a make-shift office and made a decision that changed everything. “You need to have more faith in him than that, and you need to faith in yourself. If you tell him no, you might never be able to take it back. And I promise you,” she said softly, pausing and looking up to the lights, trying to hold back her own tears. “I promise that if you do that, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” 

“But how will I ever know?” she whispered.

“You’ve got to be strong enough to ask him. And then you have to trust him.” 

“I do trust him, but…”

“No buts,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “Trust is trust. He’s never lied to you. Ask him to tell you the truth and believe him when he does.”

“Just believe him…”

“Doesn’t he deserve it?”

Liz stared at her for a few seconds before nodding, then leaned slowly in and hugged Donna. “I don’t know why I’m…”

Donna smile and hugged her back. “It’s hormones.”

“You’re a good friend,” she whispered.

“So are you.” 

Liz pulled back and looked at Donna. “Do you think he really wants to marry me?” she asked through her tears.

Donna nodded. “I do.”

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then stood a little straighter and pulled her shoulders slightly back. “I should talk to him then,” she said in a stronger voice. 

Donna smiled at her. “Go. Get engaged.”

“I’m getting married,” Liz said almost in awe. “I’m getting married,” she said again, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not wearing a pink bridesmaid dress.”

Liz laughed at her. “Deal,” she said as she headed towards the door. She unlocked and opened the door, then stopped and looked back into the kitchen.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“You’ve got me craving eggs now.”

Donna shook her head, trying not to smile. “Get out the Tupperware; you can eat it on the way.”

********** 

“Ok,” she said, sighing and rubbing her temples. “Let’s look at the fathers again.”

“Birth or adoptive?” Carrie asked.

“Birth.”

There was a collective groan and Eric pushed aside some folders, pulling two others closer. “One’s a doctor; the other’s a factory worker. Neither has a criminal background, both have decent credit, both were married when they filed the petition, and both said they came forward immediately upon finding out they had a child.” 

“But,” Kelly said, leaning over him and highlighting something on a piece of paper in each of them. “The doctor had an affair which resulted in the pregnancy while the factory worker had a one-night stand before he was married.”

“Why does that matter?” Carrie asked, her elbows on the table and her hand propping up her head.

“Goes to character,” said Eric.

“And the doctor knew the mother,” Kelly said yawning. “So he had the potential to find out about his daughter before she was six. And maybe he did know but tried to hide her from his wife.” 

“Then why come forward when she was six?”

“The wife found out?” Carrie asked weekly.

“None of that matters,” Donna said, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head up towards the ceiling with closed eyes. “He was granted custody, so the judge must not have cared. Our guy wasn’t. We need his negatives and the doctor’s positives.”

Eric started looking through the folders again. “The doctor had other children, the factory worker didn’t.”

“So he’s a family man,” Donna said. 

“Who had an affair,” Kelly reminded them.

“Our guy had a one-night stand. Let the affair go; it’s not helping us.”

Kelly gave Donna a look and started to speak, but Carrie cut her off. “The doctor made more money.” 

“But not more than the adoptive parents,” Kelly said.

“Don’t get off topic,” said Eric. “Stick with the birth fathers.”

Donna sat up and looked over notes that had started legibly earlier in the evening but had turned into nothing more than doodling. “So the doctor made more money, lived in a better neighborhood, and sent his kids to private schools.” 

“But the factory worker didn’t live in the slums. He and his wife were bringing in over a hundred thousand combined. They lived in a nice middle income family home in a subdivision in a good school district.”

“Our guy got screwed,” Kelly mumbled.

“There’s the title of our report,” Donna deadpanned.

“Maybe the other adoptive parents got screwed,” Carrie challenged.

“But we don’t have any proof of that.”

“Of course we have proof of that,” Donna said, looking up at Kelly. “They raised her for six years and then had to give her up to a man who lives 900 miles away from them.”

Kelly nodded her acquiesce. “Maybe we should go back to the case in New Jersey.”

“No,” the other three answered simultaneously.

Eric stood up and stretched. “I can’t do this anymore tonight, we’re getting nowhere and we’ve been at it for five hours. It’s Friday, I need a beer.”

Nobody said anything as they all looked at Eric. Finally Carrie stood as well. “Beer sounds good.”

“I’m coming too, but no case talk,” Kelly said as stood and started loading things into her attaché case.

Fifteen minutes later they walked into Music City Roadhouse on 30th Street as Eric did a bad impression of their ‘Juveniles and the Courts’ professor. Donna gave him a strange look and Kelly laughed at him. “I’m just not hearing it,” Carrie said with a smile at him.

“Are you kidding me? That was spot-on.”

Donna started unbuttoning her jacket. “That was not…” she trailed off as she turned and found herself staring directly at Josh. It took a second to muster up the courage, but then she smiled awkwardly at him and bit her bottom lip in nervousness.

He smiled back softly, but she could tell that he was as shocked as she was, and she could literally feel her face warm and pulse quicken. He looked good, really good; rested and relaxed and better than he’d looked for the last three or four weeks. She knew it was probably due to the fact that they’d won the election that past Tuesday, but there was a small voice in her head telling her that he was better off without her. That he’d ended things and it had made all the difference in his life.

He didn’t look overly happy to see her, and a part of her wanted to turn around and leave; go to her apartment and cry herself to sleep or get on a plane and go home to her mother’s pot roast and reassuring words. But she couldn’t help thinking that running into someone you’re sort of dating and not saying hello would be giving the relationship the final kiss of death, so she tried to smile in a way that didn’t look like she’d spent the last week in complete misery.

She asked Kelly to take her jacket to their table and took a hesitant step, then a deep breath, and slowly started making her way towards him through the few people in the quiet bar. He glanced away towards Toby for a second and then back to her, and she started second guessing herself. He’d asked her for time and patience and she was giving him exactly the opposite of that by forcing him into conversation, and maybe that would be the kiss of death.

She slowed down and actually considered turning around, but he stood up then, still watching her, and his mixed emotions read like a book on his face. He wasn’t sure he wanted her there, wasn’t sure it was a good idea, wasn’t sure she wouldn’t break his heart again. He actually looked frightened of her. But there was something else too, a little nervousness, a little hope, maybe a hint of excitement, and it gave her the courage to keep walking towards the table.

“Hi,” she said quietly when she got to the table, trying to smile and hoping it didn’t make her look nauseous.

“Hey, how are you?”

She looked down and shrugged. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful,” she said quietly.

“I’m glad you liked them.” 

Conversation stopped then, replaced by thick silence that felt like the first half hour of their dinner at Teatro Goldoni. She looked at him, but he kept his gaze just off of hers, telling her in silence that she’d made a mistake. That she shouldn’t have come over. That she should’ve respected his wishes and given him time. She tried to find the courage to say goodbye before the moment got too ugly, but just before she could say anything, he spoke again. “Oh, sorry. Donna, you know Sam and Toby. Do you remember CJ Cregg?”

She turned to look at CJ, hoping her face held more of a polite smile than fresh pain. “Yes, it’s nice to see you again CJ.” 

“You too. How have you been?” CJ asked, offering her hand to Donna.

She shook CJ’s hand, hoping the woman couldn’t tell how badly she was shaking, then started to reach for Josh’s arm. He still wasn’t making eye contact with her, and she thought that if she could just find some way of letting him know that she missed him, maybe he’d stop looking so frightened of her. But the thought that she might scare him more, scare him off, made her put her arm down, and she focused again on CJ. “Good, thanks.”

“She works for the Children’s Rights Council, so she’s not going to come work for me,” Toby said as he took a drink what she guessed was some sort of whiskey, and she smiled at him for trying to ease the pressure. 

“Yes, unfortunately it isn’t going to work out.”

Silence took over again, brought on by her presence, and she glanced at the uncomfortable faces of Sam, Toby and CJ pretending as though they hadn’t noticed the awkward pauses and lack of eye contact between her and Josh. She had to leave; she had to pick up what once passed for pride and say goodbye before she broke into tears. 

“Sit down, have a drink with us,” CJ said a moment later. “Sam here’s leaving us tomorrow to run for congress. Politics… I don’t know why anyone would get involved in it.”

“Umm...” She looked at CJ before glancing at Josh, still looking at the table. “I better get back...” 

He turned his head slightly then, finally looking at her. “Yeah, they’re probably waiting on you.”

It startled her to be so blatantly dismissed and she found herself staring at him and wondering how much more time he’d need. He didn’t look anywhere near being able to talk to her or trust her again, and she thought back to her years of pain without him and tried to imagine what she’d feel for him if he’d caused it. Maybe he’d never be able to forgive her. 

She finally looked back at Toby, Sam and CJ. “It was nice seeing all of you. Good luck Sam.”

He smiled at her with a look of pity on his face that she hated. “Thanks.”

She nodded slightly and looked back at Josh. “I’ll talk to you soon, I hope.”

“Yeah,” he said softly enough that she was sure only she heard it.

She looked at him for another second, willing him to look at her, and when he didn’t, she turned and walked towards the other side of the bar. She turned the corner, wondering if she could blame her soon to be red eyes on the smoke, and tried to think of an excuse she could use to leave.

She walked to the booth and sat down next to Eric. He handed her a beer without looking at her as he continued listening to whatever Kelly was saying. She took a small sip of the beer, then leaned in to him. “I’m not feeling well. I think…” her voice started trembling and she closed her eyes for a second, determined to fight off tears begging to fall. 

He turned his attention to her. “What?”

“I think I’m gonna take off,” she said louder. “I’m really tired all of a sudden.”

“No, not yet. We’re gonna play some pool. You’re Carrie’s partner.”

She looked up to apologize to Carrie, but stopped when she saw Josh walking her way. She looked at him with questioning eyes and he smiled at her, that smile she loved that always got him out of trouble, and she found herself smiling back. “Hi,” she said, still confused, as he reached the table. 

“Hey, what a surprise seeing you here!” he said as though the last three minutes had never happened.

Her smile grew even wider, letting it go like a bad dream. “I know! I can’t believe it! What are the odds?”

“It’s unbelievable really,” he said with the hint of a smirk.

She laughed at him, shaking her head just a little, and turned towards her friends. “Josh, this is Carrie, Kelly, and Eric. We’re doing a case study together and hit a dead end. Thought we’d drink instead of study.”

“Nice to meet you. Think I could borrow Donna for a second?” he asked, never taking his eyes off her. It was a completely different Josh, and she was nervous again but in a different way. 

She nodded and stood up, going with him to an empty corner. “Ok,” he said, leaning in to talk to her. “That was ugly back there. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. He needed to stop apologizing for her mistakes. None of this was his fault and he had no idea. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come over there.”

He reached out and took her hand in his, rubbing her knuckles lightly with his thumb. “Yes you should’ve. I’m glad you did. I just… I was nervous and I handled it badly.”

“You asked for time,” she said, watching his thumb move back and forth over her hand.

“With no explanation.”

But she didn’t need an explanation. It was her fault. It was all her fault, every bit of it, he just didn’t know it yet. She looked back up at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I miss you,” she whispered.

He glanced over at the table before looking back at her. “I have no right to ask you this. Are you on a date?” 

Her eyes widened, but it should’ve have surprised her. He didn’t trust her, maybe he never would again. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a study break.”

“Are you moving back to Wisconsin?”

“No, just going home for Thanksgiving in a few weeks.” 

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “We need to talk about some things.”

She knew he was right, but she dreaded it. Dreaded telling him things for which he might never be able to forgive her. “Yeah.”

“I have Sunday off. Can we get together? Someplace private where we can talk? My place maybe?”

Sunday. She’d have to tell him on Sunday. She’d have to say it out loud in two days. “Sure. How about one?”


	19. Stumbling into Life

She found herself kind of lost the next day. She tried working on her case study, tried working on an assignment for ‘Higher Education Law and Policy,’ even tried letting Liz, Tom and Mark distract her with a stupid comedy movie, but none of it worked. She couldn’t get her mind away from the fact that she was going to see Josh the next afternoon.

On one hand, she couldn’t wait to see him. But the thought of the conversation she was sure they were going to have made her physically sick. Why she left, why she hadn’t contacted him when she moved to town, why he’d been so angry with her when they ran into each other the first few times. She was going to have to sit there and listen to him tell her that she’d hurt him, and she was going to have to take responsibility for that pain, because it was all her fault. Every single bit of it. 

And she was going to have to be completely honest with him. The lie she’d been telling herself, that the past no longer mattered, had crumbled around her, and the truth was her one final chance, if she had a chance left at all. She thought she did have that chance, if the flowers and the sound of his voice when he told her he missed her were any indication, and no matter how small a chance it was, she would take it. She would take it and fight for him with it; she wouldn’t give him up again. 

But the truth wasn’t going to contain everything he wanted to hear. Would she have stayed had she known? Absolutely, no questions asked. Looking back, would that have been the right decision? That she couldn’t be sure about. She’d made something of her life. Something she may or may not have been able to make with him, and while she wanted to believe that he would’ve supported those changes, she couldn’t help thinking that she wouldn’t have chosen to make them. So yes she regretted leaving, had every single day since doing it, but she didn’t regret it completely and she hoped he could understand that.

And Michael… she was sure he’d ask about Michael and the phone call, and the thought of it brought up memories of Jeff. They’d only been dating for three months when he found out Michael was paying her tuition, and she certainly hadn’t been in love with him, but his disgust at her still stung. The sleaze that oozed from his voice as he asked if it was worth it, the nauseous feeling in her stomach when he offered to pay if she’d repay him the way she did Michael, the sting of her hand when she slapped his face… She’d never told anyone about that conversation, not a soul, and she couldn’t even fathom Josh reacting the same way, but the seed of doubt had been planted a year earlier.

She didn’t sleep at all on Saturday night, and if she had gone back over the past week and counted, she would’ve known she’d gotten less than twenty hours of sleep in seven nights. But she didn’t do the math, and she didn’t pay attention to the lack of food she’d been eating. She didn’t want to know how bad it was getting, didn’t want to think about the past or how easily she could slip back into the unhealthy person she’d been years earlier. So when her mother asked, she said she was fine; that there was no need to worry.

She tried to do a little research on child prison inmate rights that next morning after her bi-weekly phone call to her parents, but even rehabilitation versus throwing away the key wasn’t enough to keep her mind off of Josh, so after a half a piece of toast and a few sips of black coffee, she showered and got ready. 

She chose to walk to his townhouse. She was early and it was only three blocks away, plus she feared she might not be in the shape to drive afterwards. It was a sunny day; chilly, but not bad for November, and the fresh air helped her relax a little. As she approached his building, she looked up the stairs that led to his townhouse and her fate, and she scolded herself for just a second for being so maudlin. But it was true; she could feel it.

It took her a second to gain the courage, but she finally rang his buzzer, and a minute later, she stood in front of his door. She knocked and looked down at her shaking hands, and when he opened the door she looked up and smiled nervously at him. He watched her for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything, but she didn’t trust her voice to be the first to speak. When he finally said hello, she glanced down and willed herself to calm down. “Hi,” she said, looking back up at him. When he didn’t say anything else, she looked over his shoulder into the townhouse. “Can I…”

His eyes went wide and he stepped back to let her inside. “Oh, I’m sorry. Please… come in.”

“Thanks,” she said, walking into the foyer. There was some more awkwardness after that before he took her jacket and got her a glass of water. And then they were sitting very far apart from each other on a couch and a chair in his living room, and she wished he’d come closer. She couldn’t help thinking that she’d have more courage if he’d just come closer.

“How have you been?” he asked after more silence.

She wanted to tell him she’d been horrible. That she missed him and his smile and his energy. That she couldn’t sleep and couldn’t eat, and that it actually scared her to need him that much. “Good,” she said unconvincingly. “You?”

He nodded. “Good.”

“Good,” she said, picking up her water and staring blindly inside of it while the silence once again took over. She didn’t believe him, it was written in his eyes, and she blamed herself again, because she should’ve told him the truth. She told herself she’d tell him the truth. 

“Horrible,” he said out of nowhere, and she looked quickly up at him.

“What?”

“I said ‘horrible.’ I’ve been horrible.”

His honesty was refreshing and almost made her smile. “Oh.”

“I don’t want…” he paused and stared at her. “I can’t…” he let out a deep breath and started again. “…lie to you. I need to be honest and the truth is I’ve had a really hard week.” 

She nodded; this was why they were there, and she was glad he hadn’t let them take the easy way out. “Why?” she asked softly.

He seemed surprised by her question but looked directly at her as he answered. “A few reasons; reasons I need to tell you about. But mostly because I didn’t see you.”

It came as a relief, that he’d felt her absence the way she’d felt his. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth, so she looked back into her glass before taking a sip. Summoning up the courage, she brought the glass down and continued looking inside. “Well, as long as we’re being honest, I’ve been miserable.”

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

She looked up at nodded. “I’ve been really confused, and I’ve been… scared that I wouldn’t see you again.” 

“I’ve been worried you wouldn’t want to.”

Her voice threatened to crack, and she looked back at the glass. “I didn’t want you to go in the first place,” she whispered. He had to know that; she’d begged him to stay.

“I had to,” he said softly but with resolve.

“You said that,” she said equally as softly, as though if they said these things to each other quietly, they wouldn’t sting as badly. She wondered if that was true.

“I’m sorry it hurt you when I left. That wasn’t my intention.” 

“I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes for just a second and thinking the exact same thing, hoping that when she said that to him, he’d believe her. 

It was quiet again, but although it was hard it wasn’t awkward, and he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “I have to tell you something I can’t tell you.”

Her eyes widened. She’d been expecting questions, accusations, admissions of pain. Not secrets. “How am I supposed to react to that?”

“Tell me I can trust you. Tell me that even if we don’t…” he stopped again but she easily finished the sentence in her mind, and the fact that he considered that an option caused the first tears to pool in her eyes. “Tell me you won’t tell anyone. Anyone at all, no matter what.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised at his lack of trust, she’d certainly done nothing to earn it, but it still hurt to hear, and a tear slipped from her eye and slid down her cheek before she wiped it away. “You don’t trust me,” she whispered as fact.

He looked up towards the ceiling for a second before looking back at her. “I want to. Tell me I can.”

She looked over at him, meeting his eyes with her wet ones. “You can,” came out as nothing more than a breath.

He quickly turned away from her face and stood up, walking out of the living room and down the hallway, and her heart sank. What if he couldn’t? What if he tried, but just couldn’t? If the pain she’d caused him had been too much? She shook her head, clearing it. She’d underestimated his love for her once before; she wouldn’t do it again.

He walked back into the room a minute later. She could see his figure moving out of the corner of her eye, but she was too afraid to look at him. So when he held a box of Kleenex in front of her, it startled her and even more tears fell. She nodded her thanks and took a tissue from the box. 

He sat down, watching her for a second with pleading eyes, but she didn’t understand what he was asking. That she’d stop crying? That she’d leave? That she’d answer the questions he didn’t know how to word? She had no idea. “I have a thing…” he said a minute later, pausing and running his hand through his hair. “From when I was shot. It’s called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Basically, when things get stressful or hard for me, I tend to re-live the shooting.”

He said it almost casually as if the delivery could change the actual message, but he might as well have punched her in the gut, the wind knocked out of her that quickly. He was… what was he saying exactly? She looked down at the tissue in her hand and closed her eyes. She’d studied PTSD briefly at UW in ‘Child Psychology,’ and she quickly racked her brain for memories. Trauma victims, triggers, anger, destructive behavior… she couldn’t remember enough to really understand what he was saying. “Are you ok?”

“Most of the time, yes,” he said, nodding and then pausing for a deep breath. She recognized it as him gearing himself up for something and waited for the proverbial ‘but.’ He ran his hands over his face and through his hair before looking back up at her. “But since seeing you again, I’ve been… I’ve had nightmares, trouble sleeping... I’m easily angered, easily panicked; I keep waiting for the ball to drop…” He stopped and studied her for a second, but she heard his voice anyway repeating those things to her all over again. “That’s why I left. I didn’t want you to have to see me like that.” 

She stared at him, through him really, unable to breathe. She’d seen this. This… PTSD thing had happened at her apartment. And… maybe at the Baked and Wired? She’d done that to him, was doing it to him. Forcing him to… how did he put it? Relive the shooting? She was making him relive the shooting? The most horrific thing of his life and he was reliving it right in front of her because she was selfish enough to want him back after she’d… and she hadn’t even noticed? She sucked in a huge breath of air. She’d abandoned him. Abandoned him, and because of that she hadn’t been there when he needed her more than ever before, and now… now being in her presence made him relive it? She couldn’t… wouldn’t do that to him. She had to love him more than that, even if it killed her. She stood up abruptly, shaking almost violently. “I should go.”

“What?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

She couldn’t look at him. She was about to leave him again, she couldn’t… oh god, she wouldn’t get to study his face again. To memorize it one more time. Her tears started falling harder. “You’re hurt because I came back,” she choked out. “I won’t do that to you.” 

She made it on unstable legs to the coat rack by his door, fumbling with her jacket. Her hands were shaking too much to get it off, and she was just about to leave it and go when she felt his hand wrapping around her arm and turning her body towards him. “Donna, don’t,” he pleaded.

She had to. She couldn’t look at him. She had to go; she had to put him first. For once, she had to. She couldn’t hurt him again. She couldn’t. “You just said…” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Please don’t. I’d never hurt you, I swear it.”

She stopped suddenly, her eyes snapping up to his. “I don’t think...” Of course he’d never hurt her. Not in a million years. But she was hurting him. “I’d never think that, Josh,” she whispered, a small, devastatingly sad smile on her face. She looked down and then up at him, a determined look on her face. She had to do this. She had to do what was best for him. “But I’m hurting you and I won’t do that; not again.”

“You want to keep from hurting me? Stay.”

She shook her head and whispered, “I can’t.” Relive. He’d said relive, not remember. She couldn’t do that to him.

“Admitting this to you…” he stopped, taking her other arm in his hand, holding her gently but firmly directly in front of him. “God Donna, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Do you think I wanted to look at you and tell you that I’m…” He stopped and she wondered how he could think that she could ever see him as anything less than amazing. “I tried to keep it all inside,” he said softly. “Hoping it would just go away, but it won’t. So I can either tell you or lose you. I don’t want to lose you.”

He was pleading with her. “Josh…” she said, shaking her head.

“If you think I’m some whack-job…”

“I don’t think that,” she said adamantly, cutting him off. 

“Then don’t go,” he said desperately.

She stared at him. How could she stay and hurt him? How could she do that to him? Relive… how could he want her to? How could he love her enough to willingly go through that just to be with her? But… when he asked her with those eyes and that voice and that power he had over her… when he stood in front of her and asked her to love him just the way he was, even though he saw himself as damaged and less than perfect, how could she not? A minute passed, at least, before she barely nodded and he let go of her and watched in complete silence as she went back to the couch and sat down while taking more tissues from the Kleenex box. “What do I have to do with the shooting?” she whispered, still not sure she could stay. Still not sure she could keep from hurting him. “I wasn’t there.”

He was still standing by the door, but he went back to his chair and spoke softly. “It’s just the way I handle stress. You came back and… I’d spent four years trying to hate you for leaving me, and then there you were smiling in a Shell station like nothing had happened. And I…I told myself I had to…” He stopped, his voice wavering, and looked away from her to the wall. “Protect myself from you. But you kept showing up and talking and part of me couldn’t help wanting what we had back…” He looked back to her then and whispered, “Wanting more.” 

“Just part of you?” she whispered back.

He stood up and walked to the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway and looking at his shoes. “Part of me wanted to keep hating you. To… God this is so hard. To blame you for…” He looked back at her with a stricken face etched in pain and she hated herself for putting it there. She looked straight at him. She told herself she’d own up to this, and she would. “You broke my heart. I know you didn’t know it, but it didn’t matter to me. You broke my heart and I needed to hate you to protect myself from letting you do it again.”

She was crying harder again as she started piecing things together. The gas station, the dry cleaners, the Baked and Wired… he’d been so… standoffish. He’d tried to hate her. He’d tried to stay away and she’d pushed and pushed and he’d finally given in. “And now?” she whispered. “Does part of you want to hate me now?”

He shook his head. “No, but part of me is still waiting for you to leave.”

“Because I did before,” she said as more pieces came into place. The phone call, Michael… he’d been waiting for that. Waiting for her to let him down again. And she had; she’d been so confused that she’d defended Michael instead of assuring Josh. She’d let him down and he’d relived the shooting. 

“No,” he said firmly. “You quit your job before. A job you weren’t even being paid to do. It’s not because of what you did; it’s because of how I see what you did.”

She put her glass and sat back, looking down into her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, turning to face her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she started sobbing again, her shoulders shaking and her voice failing. When she did speak, her words were broken and unintelligible. “Whatever I need to be sorry for to fix this.”

“Are you sorry you left the campaign? Because you’re better for it you know.”

She put her elbows on her knees then and propped her forehead in her hands, trying to take deep breaths. He was right, she was better, stronger because of it, but she could’ve done all of that with him, had she just given him a chance. “I’m sorry for the way I left. After everything you did for me…”

“It hurt more than you know.” 

But she did know. The pain, the ache, understanding for the first time that those were two different things… the regrets and the resignation that she’d never find that kind of love again. “You won’t believe this, but I do know.”

He turned his head away from her. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.” 

“That’s fair,” she whispered. Because he didn’t know the truth. And even if he did, it was still her fault; every bit of it. “And I am sorry.”

He looked back at her. “You shouldn’t have to be. You left your job to go back to your boyfriend. Intellectually I know that. I do. But it gets all screwed up emotionally. It feels like you left me for your boyfriend. I can tell myself over and over that you left your job, but it still feels like…”

“I left you,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “Yes.”

She had to tell him. She had to say it. And he’d either forgive her or he wouldn’t, but he deserved to know the truth. That he was never second to anyone. Not in her eyes. Never. “It feels like that because it’s true.” 

A split second passed before he looked at her with confusion in his eyes. “What?” 

“Honesty, right?” she whispered as tears began falling again.

“Yes,” he choked out.

“I didn’t leave my job,” she said softly. Tears started falling harder and she wiped them away with the tips of her fingers. “I left you. I just didn’t do it for Michael.” His eyes were wide and looking at her like she’d just ripped his heart out of his chest, and she closed hers so she wouldn’t have to see him. She couldn’t bear to see that look. She couldn’t bear doing that to him. 

He didn’t say anything, just stood there staring at her with a pain in his eyes she’d never seen from him, not even the week before when he’d exploded in her apartment and told her, most likely on accident, how much she meant to him all those years ago. But she’d just taken away the only truth he’d ever known about her leaving. 

“Josh,” she said quietly, wiping her eyes and willing herself to stop crying. 

“You said I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said in a gravely voice she’d never heard from him before, as if his vocal chords were gone and the sound was coming straight from the heart she’d shredded.

“You didn’t,” she said, standing up slowly and taking a step towards him. He flinched and took a step backwards, from the entry way into the kitchen, as if backing away from a predator, and she worried for a second that he was reliving the shooting again. But he was looking at her, and that hadn’t been the case at her apartment. There, he’d seemed to go away some place. “You never did anything wrong. Please just let me explain.”

He didn’t reply, just continued looking at her, taking another step backwards into the kitchen as she took another towards him. She needed to be near him; she doubted she had the courage to say these words if she couldn’t be at least touching him in some small way, and she wanted nothing more than to be close to him. To smell his cologne and feel the warmth from his body, to feel like they were in this together. She didn’t deserve that, she knew, but it didn’t stop her from needing it, and she took one more step towards him as he backed into the refrigerator. “Josh, please,” she begged, tears still streaming unwanted down her face.

He didn’t answer her, but when she took another tentative step towards him, he didn’t move, and three steps later she stood directly in front of him. She reached out, taking his hand in hers and he didn’t fight her, but didn’t respond as she laced their fingers together.

“Make me understand,” he whispered finally, although to her it sounded more like pleading than a request. “I need to understand.”

She nodded, staring down at their joined fingers, hers gripping his hand, his limply being held by hers. She wiped her eyes with her other hand and finally she looked back up at him. “You were larger than life,” she whispered. “You were amazing and smart and funny and… you could do anything.” She stopped and looked up at him. “I came there with nothing and you let me help. You let me be a part of it and for the first time ever, I felt like I made a difference, because you made a tremendous difference to everyone and I made a small one to you.”

He looked away from her, off to the side, and lowered his head, then whispered, “You made a huge difference to me.” 

She wanted to reach out and put her hand on his cheek, to lift his head so he’d look at her, but she thought he’d turn and leave if she touched him more than she already dared. “And that made me feel so special and needed. And I couldn’t help it. Before I even realized it, I had…” She stopped then, desperately trying to hold the tears inside and wondering how she’d ever be able to tell him this. Even four years later and after everything he'd said, part of her still felt pathetic when she thought about it.

“What?” he asked quietly, lifting his head and looking at her after the silence stretched.

Honesty, she told herself. If she wanted him to understand, she’d have to tell him. It couldn’t be any harder than what he’d told her and if he’d found the courage, she would too. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the light on the ceiling. “I had this huge, huge crush on you. At least that’s how it started. And I felt like a complete idiot because I thought you couldn’t feel the same way.” She stopped and pulled her eyes off the ceiling to look at him, complete shock in his eyes. “You had a girlfriend,” she said quietly. “An influential, smart, educated girlfriend. I was twelve years younger than you with no college degree and no experience in politics and I was sure you saw me as a kid sister, someone you had to watch out for.”

His eyes widened. “A kid sister?”

“You talked badly about Michael, you made sure the campaign paid for my food and hotel, you explained things, you argued…”

He shook his head. “I didn’t see you as a kid sister.”

She closed her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she whispered before opening them and looking at him again. “I just… I looked three, four, eight years into the future and saw myself as your assistant. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t have been able to do that for years. To pretend that I didn’t…” she stopped, taking a shaky breath and wiping tears off her cheek with one hand while still holding onto him with her other. “…want more. I couldn’t keep watching you with her. What if it had worked out, what if you had married her? I couldn’t stay there and be that close to you and not be with you. If it was that hard after a month, what would it have been like after six or seven years?” She shook her head and blinked, letting even more tears course down her cheeks. “I couldn’t do it.”

His free hand moved then and she watched as he brought it to her face, pausing just before touching her. It hung there in the air for a few seconds before he put it down to his side again. “So you left? Without talking to me about it? I broke up with her... three days before you... I broke up with her to be with you.”

Silent tears turned into sobbing and she choked on her words as she continued. “I didn’t know,” she said, chest heaving and shoulders shaking badly. “Michael came to New Hampshire with flowers and promises and asked me to come back. I knew it wouldn’t work; I didn’t want him anymore.” She kept going but could barely understand her own words between sobs and deep shaky breaths. “He couldn’t… come… close to you. But I thought maybe if I got away… maybe if I went back to real life, I’d be ok, I’d get past it. So I…left.” 

He closed his eyes. “How long were you with him?”

She tried to take deep breaths, tried to stay calm, tried to stop crying, but she’d waited too long to say all of it, and along with the words came memories and guilt and remorse and pain. “Not quite two weeks. I was living with my parents, waiting for an opportunity to end it. It came and I did.”

His hand came up then, his palm gliding over her wet cheeks to her ear, his fingers tangling softly in her hair. He pulled her head to his chest, shushing her, the steady beat of his heart calming her immediately. He held her there, his chin on top of her head, his fingers still in her hair. “You could’ve come back,” he whispered almost a minute later.

She shook her head slightly, still crying onto his shirt. “I was trying to convince myself it was just a crush. I thought that after time, life would go back to normal and those feelings would disappear.”

He took his other hand gently from hers and wrapped it around her body, pulling her even closer to him. “Did they?”

She stayed still, breathing him in while her own breathing evened out and tears stopped falling. Finally, she pulled back just enough to look at him. “No. I learned to live with them, push them to the background, but they were always there. I stayed with my parents and went back to school, but you still had such an influence on my life. It was…”

She stopped talking, looking down at the ground, and he brought a hand to her chin, tilting it up to look at him. “What?”

“It was almost like I was getting ready for that day in the Shell station. I just didn’t realize it.”

He furrowed his brow a bit. “I don’t under…”

“I was at home one night, a few months after I left, flipping through channels. The Mets were playing the Cubs and I wondered if you were watching. It made me feel a little closer to you to think we might be doing the same thing, so I watched the game the next night too. Before I knew it, I was a Mets fan. You always said children should be our top priority and I’m a semester away from being a child advocacy lawyer. Papers I wrote, positions I took… I always looked to yours. Always wondered what you’d think, wondered if you’d agree, if you’d be proud.”

“I am,” he said quietly.

She smiled at him then, nodding. “I know.”

“But I still wish you’d stayed. I know that’s selfish, but I can’t help it.”

“Part of me wishes I’d stayed too.” Part of her always would. It would forever be the road not taken in her life.

He closed his eyes for several seconds before opening them and looking at her. “Are you going to stay this time?”

She didn’t know if he was asking in general or because she’d almost left just fifteen minutes earlier when he’d told her about his trauma disorder, but she was careful to maintain eye contact. “If you let me,” she whispered deliberately.

“Then why were you talking to Michael?”

She’d been expecting that question. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then explain it to me,” he said quietly, pulling his hand out of her hair and brushing her shoulder as he dropped it to his side. 

Her nerves threatened her again, but she believed in him. He wasn’t Jeff and he wasn’t Michael. She’d underestimated him once, only once, and it had been a huge mistake. One she wouldn’t make again. This would be fine. This was the easy part. She smiled slightly at him. “Do you mind if I…” she gestured over her shoulder. “Splash some cold water on my face first?”

“Uh…” he looked taken aback, but her face was hot and sticky and burning slightly. She needed to feel like a person again. She needed to be secure in herself while she told him this. “Sure. Go ahead.” 

She smiled and started for the bathroom, stopping and asking him for some more water before going inside and washing her face. The cool water felt good and she rinsed her face over and over, already feeling some of the puffiness around her eyes going down. She looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. She’d told him the truth. How she’d loved him and why she’d left, and while at the beginning he’d seemed almost frightened of her, by the end he was holding her, maybe forgiving her, and that was everything. The worst of it was over.

When she came out of the bathroom, he was sitting in the chair again and she found herself disappointed that he still needed that distance between them. But he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know that he’d given her the determination and confidence to ask Michael to coffee one day more than four years earlier and tell him in a calm and authoritative voice that it was time he pay her back. She walked to the couch and sat down, taking a drink of her water before looking up at him with certainty. “Michael and I had a deal.” 

“A deal?” he asked in that voice of his that she loved. 

She nodded and spoke with assurance. “I’d get him through residency, then he’d get me through college. That was our deal.”

“Yes, I remember,” he said, nodding slowly. “What does that…”

“The deal wasn’t contingent on our staying together.”

He seemed to be getting more confused instead of less. “What?”

She shrugged. “Of course we thought we’d still be together, but the deal didn’t hinge on it.”

“So…” he asked as if he was starting to put the pieces together.

“Michael’s paying for my college.”

He stared agape at her, as if waiting for the punch line. His eyes were wide and his mouth open and with her emotions all over the place, she almost laughed. “Really?” he asked, completely floored and maybe a little impressed.

“He wasn’t a fan of the idea when I brought it up, but he got the good end of the deal, so he eventually agreed to it.”

He smiled then, small enough that it would’ve been unnoticeable to anyone else, and she smiled back, just as slightly. “How did you get him to do that?”

“Josh, I know you’ve spent four years painting him a certain way,” she said quietly, knowing that Josh’s opinion of him was her fault. “But he’s not a complete bastard. I paid for everything when we were together. Rent, utilities, groceries, car repairs… all of it. I asked him to pay only my tuition and he agreed. I wasn’t for my undergrad, but I’m on a partial scholarship now, so that makes it even easier on him.”

He seemed almost in awe of her and her fears were slipping away. “And that’s what the call was about?” 

“His fiancé’s not the happiest about our agreement. Since next semester’s my last, he wanted to know if I’d registered and gotten the bill so he could pay it and be done with it.”

He nodded. “I can see where she’s coming from.”

His words were like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. She looked down into her glass, suddenly unsure. “Please don’t,” she whispered. Jeff was one thing, but she couldn’t take it if he saw her that way. Of all people, not him. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t be…” She looked up at him. “I’m not sponging off my ex. I’m not some weak girl who has to have someone else pay her way. This was our deal and he’s getting the far better end of it. Please don’t act like…” She looked over at the wall and clenched her jaw. She wouldn’t cry about this. Not this. “Like I slept with him for tuition,” she whispered.

“I didn’t mean…” He stopped talking and walked up to her, kneeling in front of her so their faces were level. There were tears in her eyes again and she wouldn’t look at him like that so she kept her face turned away. She would apologize for everything but this. This, she wouldn’t feel guilty about. “That’s not what I meant. I would never, never think that about you.”

She wanted to believe that, needed to, but he’d sounded… She closed her eyes briefly, holding back tears, then opened them again and continued looking at the wall. “Then what did you mean?”

He reached out took her hands in his own. It made her feel safe again and she wanted to believe she was. “It was a stupid thing to say and I’m sorry,” he said softly, squeezing her hands. “I just meant that if you and I were dating and you were paying his tuition, I wouldn’t care for it either.”

“What if you and I were dating… and he was paying mine?” 

He paused before answering. “Honesty, right?” She nodded, hoping against hope that he could understand her need to demand that Michael repay her. It wasn’t about the money, at least not anymore. She could pay it. She’d have to scrimp, but she could pay her tuition without taking out student loans. That wasn’t the point. The point was standing up for herself, and she needed him to see that. 

“Honestly, I’d have mixed feelings. I think I’d be glad there was only one check to go.” He smiled at her, not a dimpled smile, but a smile none the less, and she could tell that he did understand. That he didn’t like it, but that he understood it, and that was enough for her. She met his eyes and nodded before smiling widely. 

“He paid it online Friday.” 

“Even better,” he said, the beginnings of his dimples starting to show.

She leaned into him then, resting her forehead against his, both of them smiling, and just sat like that for a moment. He sighed and she did as well, and then she asked him, because she couldn’t wait another second. “Are we?” 

“Are we what?” he whispered back.

“Dating?”

He pulled back and kissed her forehead. “I have this PTSD thing,” he said quietly.

She sat up and looked at him. He’d told her about the PTSD so he wouldn’t lose her, he’d said so himself. But now he was using it to give her a way out, and she tried not to let it hurt that he thought that would matter to her. She took a breath, letting it go. She still had trust to earn from him. “I don’t care,” she said, looking directly at him. “I mean… I do care, but… I don’t see it as a deterrent to dating you.”

He paused and then nodded. “I have a pretty ugly scar on my chest you’re probably going to have see sooner or later.” 

She didn’t really know what he was talking about for a second, and then her eyes widened and she stared at him. He was trying to make light of it? Of a surgery that saved his life? It was a defense mechanism, she was sure, and she saw through it like glass. “You don’t know how…” Tears pooled in her eyes again and she pulled one of her hands from his and laid it on his chest, shaking her head. “You’re not allowed to make fun of that from now on, ok?” she whispered in a shaky voice.

He nodded, gripping her hand with one of his, letting both of them rest there over his heart. They sat there silently, their fingers locked, and she could feel his heart beating under her hand, strong and steady. A few more tears escaped her eyes and she let them slide down her cheek uninterrupted. 

It was a few minutes before he moved his hand to her neck and pulled her close to kiss her, and it was different from every other kiss they’d shared. There would be more to discuss, moments she’d have to tell him about, things about him she’d have to learn, but they were sharing a kiss laced with forgiveness and love, and she knew everything was going to be ok.

It stayed soft like that for several moments as they communicated, and then he applied more pressure and they both deepened it, one of her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her closer and groaned into her mouth. And then they were picking up where they’d left off in her kitchen.

She pulled back a few minutes later, taking his face in her hands and raining kisses on his cheek, his forehead, his nose and finally his lips again before sitting up straighter and looking at him with a smile. Her face was glowing, she was sure of it. Every emotion she felt written there like a book. Happiness, excitement, anticipation, love… it looked a lot like his, she guessed.

“You sure?” he asked her.

Her smile widened even more, if that was even possible. “Positive, you?”

He pulled her close him again, his fingers grazing over her lips, her cheekbone, her jaw. “For the last four years you’ve been my past,” he whispered. “I need you to be my future.”


	20. Stumbling into Life

His lips moved from her mouth to her neck and she was glad she wasn’t standing up, because her knees immediately turned to jello. She made a sound, a half-moan half-groan completely desperate sound that was in no way playing hard to get, and felt him smile against her neck. She smiled too, even though he couldn’t see it, and turned into him a bit more. She wasn’t sure how they’d ended up on the couch, her body accepting his on top of her as if it had been there a thousand times and fit just perfectly, but she thought Liz would be excited to know that they’d progressed to horizontal kissing.

She’d been sitting on the couch, him crouched on the floor in front of her, and he’d told her that he needed her to be his future. His future. And that meant he could be hers, and that was everything. She’d smiled at him then and he’d leaned in and kissed her softly, almost questioningly, and she’d wrapped her arms around him and held on tighter than she ever had to anyone or anything before in her life. And maybe at that point, she’d started pulling him onto the couch with her, or maybe he’d been pushing her back to make room, but as his teeth grazed her collarbone and she gasped, she figured it really didn’t matter anymore.

Her stomach growled just little bit and she thought it was a good sign that after a week of barely eating, she was hungry again. But she had better things to think about at the moment; his hands were in her hair and hers were in his, a place she thought she could easily leave them forever, and suddenly a picture of the two of them showering together flashed in her mind and she could see herself lathering shampoo in his hair as did the same for her.

When she pulled herself back to reality, his lips weren’t on her anywhere. She opened her eyes and he was above her, looking down at her face with eyes warmer than she’d ever seen. She blushed and smiled at him, and he shifted onto his side behind her on the couch, one of his legs hooked between hers, and traced her lips with his fingertips.

“How long can you stay?” he whispered, studying her mouth instead of her eyes. 

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, wondering how long it would be before he really trusted her, then opened them and ran her fingers through his hair. “Josh, I told you. I’m going to stay as long as you let me. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He pulled his eyes to hers, moving his hand from her mouth and brushing her lips with his. “I meant today,” he whispered against her.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “Sorry.”

He pulled back, resting his head on one hand while the other drew random patterns on her stomach over her shirt. “I’m not. I like hearing it. I might need you to remind me of it for a while.”

She shifted onto her side, facing him, and propped her head up on her hand as well, the confines of the couching pressing them intimately close to each other. “I know.”

He moved his free hand to her back, pulling her even closer. “So how long can you stay?”

She hesitated, worried that if she spit out ‘all day and all night’ like she wanted to, she’d look a little too eager. “I didn’t plan anything else today.”

“Nothing? You don’t need to study?” 

“I always need to study, but I don’t have anything big coming up.”

“Then stay with me,” he said as he leaned in, not giving her time to answer before taking her lips again with his. 

“I’ll stay,” she whispered a minute later, detaching herself from his lips and reattaching her mouth to his neck, sucking lightly while bringing her free hand to his hair again almost as if it were a magnet, pulling her there. 

He stayed still for a minute, letting her explore his neck, then rolled her onto her back again and settled himself on top of her. Her stomach growled again and he chuckled. “Hungry?”

“Later,” she said distractedly, pulling her legs out from underneath him and cradling him between her thighs.

He groaned and trailed his lips down to the bit of her chest exposed by her v-neck shirt. “Is this ok?” he whispered, laying hot, wet kisses on her.

He’d asked her that once before, the night she’d made him dinner, and just like that night she wasn’t sure what could possibly be considered not ok about what he was doing to her. She put her hands back in his hair, finding it hard to participate otherwise. “Yes.”

He continued kissing her, brushing her necklace out of the way with his fingertips and then grazing her neck and collarbone, warming each place he touched as though his fingers were on fire. He kissed his way back up her neck and to her lips, his tongue tangling with hers slowly and deliberately instead of light and teasing as it had been a week earlier at her apartment.

She could feel him sliding off of her to one side again, and immediately she missed his warmth and leaned into him. One of his hands found the hem of her shirt and dipped underneath it to the skin just above the waist of her jeans. He pulled away from her mouth and got out nothing more than, “Is this…” before Donna whispered yes and melted onto his lips again.

His hand on her skin felt like fire yet still made her shiver. He moved slowly, to her back first, both touching her and pulling her closer to him at the same time. When his fingers danced across the back of her bra and then underneath it to the skin there, she had the nearly uncontrollable urge to tell him to move to the front. One of her own hands found its way under his shirt, her fingernails lightly scratching their way across his back as far as she could reach. Her other hand clung to him around his neck as he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking and nibbling and licking, and she could no longer concentrate on any one thing he was doing to her.

His hand came around to her lower stomach, gently pushing her onto her back again. He stayed on his side, and although she tried to keep her lips attached to his, the angle was awkward and he let go of her bottom lip and started kissing her neck again as his palm splayed across her stomach. “You’re so soft,” he mumbled into her ear before kissing that spot right behind it that made her whimper.

She was breathing heavily by then, unable to do anything but feel him on her. His hand stayed on her stomach, his fingers close enough to her breasts that she could feel the heat off of them, and she was tempted to move his hand up a few inches, but worried that might be too much too soon. It had, after all, only been a week since she’d caused him so much pain that he couldn’t be around her. Just because she’d been waiting for this for years didn’t mean he was ready for it.

It was minutes later when he brushed against her bra, and even then it was so light that she was positive it had been an accident. But a few minutes after that, he did it again, a bit bolder although still tentative, and she couldn’t stop herself from arching up into him.

He took his mouth off her neck, his breath heavy on her collarbone as his thumb brushed back and forth across her nipple. They were already hard, straining against the fabric, and her breath became even more labored as they both concentrated on the feel of his hand on her and nothing else. She sighed his name and he pulled his head back, looking at her face and then down at his hand under her shirt almost as if he couldn’t believe it was really there. He watched as he moved to her other breast, as she arched into him again as his finger tips grazed over her. And then she was pulling her head up off the couch cushion and kissing whatever she could reach on him; his neck, his jaw, his temple, and he turned his head and kissed her deeply as his hand moved back down to her stomach.

He rolled on top of her again and brought his other hand to her face, her hair, her jaw line. He was being so gentle, so careful, so slow, and she loved him even more for it. For treasuring what they were doing. “Can…”

“Yes,” she whispered, kissing him again, over and over and over. “Whatever it is, yes.” 

She worried that maybe he was being too forward or that maybe he wouldn’t understand what she was saying, but she felt him harden immediately against her hip and then he was crushing his lips to hers almost bruisingly. They kissed like that, hard and desperate, his hands tangled in her hair and her gripping his shoulder with all the strength she could, and when he pulled back a minute later, he looked at her with a hunger in his eyes that made her instantly wet. He took several deep breaths, his chest moving in sync with hers, and then pulled off of her and stood up, reaching his hand out to her and helping her stand as well.

Standing was a whole different ballgame, she thought. Suddenly, she had far more access to him, and as he walked them towards the bedroom, her hands were everywhere; his neck, his shoulders, his waist, his chest... His hands were on her back again, under her shirt, and he was undoing her bra. She winced, wishing she’d worn something sexier than simple pink cotton, but once he had it unsnapped, he pulled both it and her shirt off of her, tossing them behind him without bothering to watch them land.

He stopped suddenly there in the hallway his eyes on her body, and she could feel herself flush under his stare. Slowly, his hand slid up her stomach to her breast, and he watched his thumb work slowly back and forth on her nipple the way it had a few minutes earlier. 

She looked down and gasped at the visual of Josh’s hands on her that intimately. Leaning forward, she dipped down and captured his lips, bringing his head back up and starting to walk backwards slowly. He kissed her back, his tongue sliding against hers, as his one hand stayed on her breast and the other came around her back and led her into his bedroom.

They made it to the side of his bed and she pulled the maroon sweater he was wearing up and over his head before following it with his t-shirt. It was her turn to stare at the body she’d imagined more times than she could count. His chest, barely dusted with light reddish brown hair, pronounced muscles normally hidden under dress shirts and suit jackets, a thin white line down the center stopping before reaching his abs, flatter than she would’ve guessed. She looked up to his shoulders, strong and defined, leading to his arms, his perfect, perfect arms, and watched as her nails trailed over them to his chest and then down his stomach to the button on his jeans. She rested her finger on the button and looked up at him watching her, still and quiet.

He put his hands on her neck, pulling her face to his and kissing her lightly before kissing across her face to her ear. “I love you,” he whispered, sighed almost, and tears stung her eyes as her hands stilled. He kissed her ear again, then her forehead before pulling back and stopping at the look on her face. He stared at her for a second, then pulled his hands up to her face and wiped the tears there away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry, it was too soon. I shouldn’t have…”

Her lips on his hard and desperate cut him off and she wrapped her hands around his neck, gripping him as tightly as she could. She couldn’t get close enough; she felt like she was actually climbing up his body, and his arms came around her waist and held her closer to him while their tongues fought and their teeth clashed. And then she pulled her hands off his neck and fumbled frantically with the button on his jeans because she had to be closer, he was too far away. He must’ve thought the same thing, because he was unbuttoning her jeans the same desperate way and pushing them down over her hip and she finally got all the buttons on his undone and let them fall down, and then they were stepping out of them and kicking off their socks and pulling and pushing each other towards the bed and the slowness was gone, replaced with need. Pure need. They fell onto the bed and Josh reached for his nightstand, pulling out a condom without ever taking his mouth off of hers. 

She finally broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and looked into his dark eyes. “I love you,” she whispered before rolling them over and straddling him. “I’ve always loved you,” she mumbled, kissing his chest, the length of his scar. “Always.”

She kissed down his stomach, pushing his boxer shorts down over his erection, her mouth hot on his stomach and then his pelvic bone. Before she got any closer, he pulled her up by her shoulders and flipped them back over, his mouth on her breasts and his hand on her inner thigh. 

She gasped his name loudly and arched up into him when he touched her and he pulled his mouth from her breast and watched her flushed face and heaving chest. She pulled her head up to kiss him but lost all energy and fell back to the bed. He smiled and kissed her neck before kissing her lips again, capturing her moans with his mouth. Her hands grasped at the sheets and he kissed her ear, pulling her earlobe into his mouth as his hand continued mercilessly below. And then he whispered to her in a soft husky voice, telling her that she was beautiful and amazing, and it was when he said he loved her that she finally came apart, shouting his name.

He was propped on his side, already opening the condom when she caught her breath and opened her eyes. And then he was on top of her again and she was nodding and he was pushing inside. She wrapped her legs high around his waist and they made love slowly as he told her how good she felt and how long he’d wanted to make love to her and she told him that nobody had ever made her feel like that before.

********** 

She held the Corningware in her lap, nervously playing with the lid while chewing her bottom lip and looking out the window. The streets were nearly empty as they drove past the Mall and Holocaust Museum towards Virginia; there were a few homeless men bundled in coats sitting on benches, but otherwise it was quiet for a Thursday, even if that Thursday was Thanksgiving. 

It had been more than three weeks since they’d had what she referred to as ‘the talk,’ which had been followed by a few similar yet less stressful talks. She knew a lot more about his PTSD, things that broke her heart and made her feel guilty for not being there to notice what was happening to him sooner than his co-workers had. He told her that during the worst of it, he’d been promiscuous, very promiscuous, and she’d admitted to kind of already knowing that. And he told her about his hand. How the pain had gotten so bad on the inside that the only way he knew to stop it was to hurt even more on the outside. She’d cried that night after he’d fallen asleep, holding his hand against her heart and vowing to never let him get like that again.

And she’d told him about the darkest of the four years they’d spent apart. How she hadn’t been able to sleep or eat, how she’d lost so much weight that her parents had considered having her hospitalized, how her mom had saved her life both figuratively and literally that first year. She’d even told him how she’d wanted to move back to Madison after seeing him in the Shell station, and he’d held her and told her over and over how sorry he was for treating her like that.

Eventually they’d stopped. He told her one night that there’d always been a part of him hoping she was miserable and alone and regretting that she’d left him, and that it made him physically sick now to think that she had been and that he’d wanted it. It’d been hard for him to admit; he’d choked his way through it while holding her from behind so she couldn’t see the pain in his face or how close he’d come to crying, but she’d known all the same. That was the night they decided that they had to stop purposely bringing up things that would hurt one or both of them. So they’d struck a deal; they wouldn’t lie or hide anything, but they’d let things come out naturally, if and when they needed to. And they wouldn’t let the past change the future. And most importantly, they’d stop blaming themselves. 

Which was why she was on her way to his mother’s on Thanksgiving, nervous and dreading what was to come. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him, she’d just forgotten that she hadn’t. They’d talked about so much, so very much, she’d just assumed she’d told him. It wasn’t until she was showering that morning that she realized she hadn’t.

She could feel his eyes on her at the next light and she turned her head, smiling at him unconvincingly. He reached over and held her hand in his, picking it up and kissing her knuckles. “You’re upset that you’re not home.”

“No,” she said sincerely, shaking her head. It had been a decision they’d made after officially becoming a them. Instead of going home for Thanksgiving, she’d spend it in town with him and his mom, then she’d go home for six days at Christmas and he’d fly in on the 23rd and spend Christmas with her. 

“You’re sure?”

She squeezed his hand. “I just want to be with you.” 

“You’re upset about something,” he said softly. 

The light turned green and he glanced up at it, but then looked back at her, waiting for her to speak. She paused before nodding. “It’s nothing tragic, I just…” 

His phone rang, cutting her off, and he mumbled and pulled it from his pocket, looking at the display with a frown. “It’s Leo.”

“Answer it.”

He winced. “I’m…”

“Sorry, and you don’t need to be,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine and this is what you do. Answer the phone.” She nodded towards the road with a playful smile. “And drive.” 

He looked at her for a split second before opening his cell phone. “Leo,” he said, driving through the intersection as the light turned yellow.

She looked back out the window, paying little attention to the conversation about a female Air Force pilot who was being court marshaled for having an affair with a married officer. She’d heard about it through the grape vine the day before; children’s and women’s rights often melded into each other, and even though this situation didn’t, word had gotten around.

By the time he hung up the phone, they were pulling into a condominium complex with rows of townhouses, each two stories with a brick front and a small porch. They passed a clubhouse and a pool before parking, and he got out and came around to her door as she was opening it. He took the sweet potato casserole from her hands and leaned in to kiss her before intertwining their fingers and heading off towards a townhouse. 

She didn’t move from the car, and he turned around when he couldn’t go any farther without letting go of her. Looking at her for a second, he smiled and walked the two small steps back to her and put the casserole dish on top of the car. “Are you nervous about meeting my mom?” he asked with a teasing grin.

She shook her head slowly back and forth before talking. “I’ve already met her.”

He looked at her strangely, smiling like she might have had a screw loose. “You have, huh?” She nodded. “When?”

She looked down at their joined hands and spoke quietly. “Eleven days after you were shot, when I snuck into the hospital to check on you.”

His eyes showed confusion and he shook his head. “You didn’t visit me in the hospital.” 

She looked back up at him. “I did; you were asleep. I told your mother my name was…” She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. “I don’t remember. And that we used to work together and I was there visiting a friend who had a baby and that I just wanted to check on you.” 

“And she let you?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I watched you for a minute from the doorway.”

He nodded slightly but she could tell that he was a bit taken aback, and she waited for him to make sense of whatever was going through his head. He didn’t say anything for several seconds and she was starting to worry that he was angry, but then he used his free hand to cup her cheek and he leaned in and kissed her forehead before pulling her into a hug and holding her tightly. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he said in a soft, husky voice.

She buried her head in his neck and remembered his pale body, IV’s in arm and machines beeping in the background. She’d wanted so badly to go up to him and lay her head on his chest, listen to his heart beat. “The news kept reporting your progress, but I wasn’t… I couldn’t... figure out how to believe them. I had to see you.”

“I looked horrible. That probably scared you more.”

She shook her head and mumbled into his neck. “You were the most beautiful site I’d ever seen.”

He brought one hand up, running it soothingly through her hair, and continued holding her. “You know,” he said in a light voice a minute later. “Guys don’t really like to be called beautiful.”

She chuckled and pulled her head up to look at him, hoping he didn’t see the tears pooled in her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Guys are hot or handsome, not really beautiful,” he said with a smirk.

She raised her eyebrows, but it was all for show. She loved this about him; that he could take something hard and make it easier on her. “You didn’t really look hot or handsome,” she said with a sly smile of her own.

“But I looked beautiful?” he asked skeptically.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Fine,” he said in an exasperated voice. “I’ll take it. But just this once.”

She leaned in and kissed him. “So noted.”

“This is why you’ve been nervous today?”

“What if she recognizes me?”

He shrugged. “Then she’ll out you as the fraud you are.”

“Josh!” she said, hitting him lightly on the arm.

“And she’ll probably demand that I end things with you,” he said, picking up the potatoes and linking their fingers together before walking towards the townhouses.

“You’re not funny.”

“I am actually.” She pouted at him and he laughed at her. “Donna, do you really think she’s going to be mad that you wanted to make sure I was ok?”

“I lied to her.”

“So did I. I was sixteen and snuck out of the house to make out with Barbara Wolff.”

“Yet another in the long list of women I hate,” she said as they walked up a few steps to a porch.

He knocked on the door and pulled her in close to him. “Thank you for visiting me in the hospital,” he said quietly into her ear.

She looked at him and smiled softly. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

When Josh’s mom opened the door a few seconds later, she took one look at Donna and her eyes widened. Josh chuckled and Donna shot him a quick look before looking back at his mother and blurting out, “When Josh was sixteen, he snuck out of the house to make out with Barbara Wolff.”

“Donna!”

“I know,” his mother said with a knowing smirk towards him. “He left footprints in the flower bed under his window.”


	21. Stumbling into Life

She walked into Michelle’s office with a large packet, most of which was blacked out with marker. Michelle looked up at her as she leafed through it. “The language changes from Mississippi?”

Each state mandated its own prison system, so they were tackling minors’ prison rights state by state, and Mississippi was proving to be the worst one yet. They offered GED programs instead of high school classes, no SAT or ACT testing, certificate training instead of two or four-year college courses, a drug rehabilitation program that didn’t include counseling, no counseling for child abuse victims or gang involvement, and no hate crime program. Their visitation schedule only allowed the parents of minors to visit once a month, their prison libraries were a joke, their yard time was minimal, and their rehabilitation method was ‘lock ‘em up and throw away the key.’

“They just faxed it over. It looks like their lawyers picked it apart pretty badly.”

Michelle raised her eyebrows as she continued glossing through it. “They’re giving themselves loopholes?”

Donna sighed. “I haven’t gotten into it yet, but it looks like it. They’re going to fight this all the way. The governor’s a conservative, redneck bastard.”

“Well,” Michelle said, closing the packet. “It’s not a popular way to spend tax dollars in Mississippi.”

“It’s financially sound in the long run. You help these kids; educate them, prepare them for the real world, heal wounds… they’re less likely to end up back there.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince. When are you meeting with them again in person?”

“Three weeks, and I’m going to hit Arkansas too while I’m out that way, get an initial meeting.”

Michelle nodded. “Let me know when legal gets through with this. I want to sit down with them and the entire legislative department before we go back to the governor.” 

Donna nodded and left, going down the hallway to her office and sitting down in front of the identical packet on her desk. A half hour later, she was highlighting a paragraph dealing with secondary education when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and smiled. “How long have you been there?”

Josh shrugged and walked inside her office. “You’re making the world a better place?”

She put the highlighter down and sat back. “According to the governor of Mississippi, I’m making prison a day spa.”

He came around her desk and gave her a peck on the lips. “The language came back?”

“A lot of blacked out pieces of paper came back,” she said in a resigned voice.

He sat on the edge of her desk. “They’re creating loopholes in the language so they don’t have to do whatever manages to pass.”

“Yeah,” she said nodding, in love with the way he still taught her, even things she didn’t need to learn. In other men it might have seemed like showing off, but in his case, she knew he really just wanted her to understand. She stood up and made a place for herself between his spread legs. “So, to what do I owe this surprise?” she asked, kissing him again, longer this time.

He grinned. “I had a spare hour and thought I’d see if you’ve eaten.”

She pulled back with lit-up eyes. “I haven’t.”

“No? What would you like?”

“You pick,” she said, loosening his tie. He was far too put together for her taste.

He snaked his arms around her waist underneath the suit jacket she was wearing. “Mmm…Mortons?”

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

“Subs?”

“Greek,” she said, leaning in towards him.

“I thought I was choosing,” he said with a smile.

“You chose poorly,” she mumbled against his lips just before kissing him.

“I see,” he chuckled, pulling her closer to him and kissing her back.

When they parted, she got her purse out of her bottom drawer. “My mom called. They’re coming in tomorrow morning instead of tonight. Dad has a client in town and wants to take him to dinner.”

“Are you ok with that?” he asked, concern audible in his voice.

She smiled and put her palm on his cheek. “Yes. They get in at ten, the ceremony isn’t until two.”

He studied her for a second and she smiled at the way he looked out for her. “So… I get you to myself tonight?” 

“Indeed.”

“And you can spend the night?” he asked with raised eyebrows. She’d already told him there would be no overnights while her parents were in town. “We could sleep in tomorrow morning and then I could go with you to the airport to get them.”

She smiled slyly. “I might be persuaded, but I’m going to need further details regarding this sleepover you’re suggesting.”

He smirked and pulled her by the wrist back to him, leaning into her neck. “Details, huh?” he said just before kissing her.

“I heard you got… oh gross.”

Josh pulled back in a panic at the voice, but Donna only glared at Liz. “What do you want?”

Liz ignored her. “Hi, Josh,” she said in an overly sweet voice.

“Hi,” he said, a half-grimace, half-smile on his face.

Donna stared at her, willing her to leave, but she didn’t take the hint, and finally Donna moved away from Josh just a little. “Did you need something or did you just see Josh walk past your office and decide to pick on us?” 

“I saw Josh come in,” Liz said as she walked in and used both hands to lower herself carefully into a visitor’s chair. “But I heard you got the language back from Mississippi,” she said, breathing heavy.

Josh watched her with amusement in his eyes. “Having problems there?”

“Says the man who just got caught making-out like a teenager,” she grumbled, trying to cross her legs. She failed, and after a second huffed and slouched in the chair comfortably, her hands resting on her protruding stomach. She looked up and sighed. “I’m going to be pregnant for the rest of my life.”

“You’re not exaggerating just a bit?”

“Six days late, Donna!” she shouted before looking down and talking to her stomach softly. “Sorry, baby. That was Aunt Donna’s fault.”

Donna shook her head and picked her purse back up. “We’re getting lunch. Would you like to join us?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What are you having?”

“Greek,” Josh supplied, standing up and moving towards the door.

Liz thought for a minute. “Nah, I already had a bacon cheeseburger and chili-cheese fries. And a chocolate milkshake.”

Josh looked over at Donna. “We could have that,” he said hopefully. She shook her head and he looked back at Liz. “She’s very bossy.”

Liz just nodded. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m ignoring you both,” Donna said, walking towards the door. When she reached it, Josh’s hand landed naturally on the small of her back. 

“Wait,” Liz half-shouted.

“What?”

She looked up at them helplessly. “I can’t get up.”

Josh laughed and Donna nudged him in the side before nodding towards Liz. 

“But… what if…” he moved over to the chair and stared dumbly down at Liz. “What if I… I don’t know, drop you or something?”

“You won’t drop me,” she scoffed, holding out her hand. He glanced back towards Donna standing in the doorway smirking at him, and then took Liz’s hand and pulled her out of the chair. When she was standing, he awkwardly patted her stomach and said hello to Hannah as Liz stared at him strangely and Donna tried not to laugh.

“What about the language?” Liz asked as they left Donna’s office and walked down the hallway towards the elevator and Liz’s office.

“They liked your racial tolerance program, as long as they don’t have to pay for it.”

“Of course.”

“We’re going to meet with legal in a few days. You should sit in on it.”

Liz nodded and stopped outside her office as Donna and Josh kept walking. “Oh, Donna?” she called after them.

“Baklava?”

“Yes, please.”

********** 

He woke-up twisted around her, clinging to her as if she was everything, which to him she was. One of his hands held her possessively to him, splayed across her smooth, soft stomach, his legs tangled effortlessly with her, and his nose was buried in her hair, a scent he couldn’t quite place but to call it her. He twisted his head and nuzzled into her neck where the scent was different but still uniquely hers, and she sighed and brought one hand up to his cheek in her sleep.

He kissed her bare shoulder before carefully untangling himself from her and going into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and tilting his head as though he barely knew this man he’d become. He still found it hard to believe sometimes, that this kind of happiness was even possible.

He walked slowly and quietly back into the bedroom a few minutes later, watching her from the doorway. She always looked so young and innocent while she slept. It was like seeing the girl he fell in love with the first time before falling in love with the woman four years later, and he allowed himself a moment to remember the differences.

She rolled over in her sleep and was just starting to wake-up, stretching and sighing in that delirious place between asleep and awake. A small smile lit her face followed quickly by a pout when she reached out to his empty side of the bed. 

“I’m right here,” he said softly, and she opened her eyes and looked at the bed before looking up at him by the door.

“Why are you way over there?” she asked, her bottom lip sticking out slightly.

He smiled and walked to the bed. “I was thinking.” He’d been thinking about it a lot recently. It was something Tom had said to him one night a week after Liz and Tom had disappeared to Vegas and eloped. Donna and Liz had gone in to ooh and ahh over Hannah’s recently painted and decorated room and Tom had told Josh that one night he’d woken up while Liz was in the restroom and knew with complete certainty that he didn’t want to ever wake-up without her again. So when she’d come out of the bathroom, he’d proposed.

She rolled onto her side and looked up at him standing over the bed. “Thinking about what?”

He wasn’t sure he was ready to voice everything he thought about when it came to her. Marriage, a Hannah of their own, a house in the suburbs with a big back yard… things he’d never before dared to want but wanted desperately with her. And he knew himself; knew that he could be easily freaked out, knew he needed to take baby steps. So instead of telling her all those things he thought about, he leaned across the bed and hovered over her, then leaned down and kissed her slowly. “I was thinking that we should re-visit the living together thing,” he said when they parted a minute later.

They’d briefly discussed it for the first time in January when her co-worker was about to come back from Africa and Donna had started apartment hunting, but his psychiatrist didn’t think he was ready, and he was probably right. And Donna had been reluctant to move in with him while she was still in school, so they’d dropped it and Donna had taken over Liz’s lease when she moved in with Tom. 

“I thought Dr. Miller said you weren’t ready.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal and lay on his side next to her. “Dr. Miller’s a quack. I’ve always thought so.”

She rolled onto her side facing him. “Hence you spilling your guts to him every Wednesday morning.”

“Yes. Plus, he said that months ago. I’m doing well and you’ve finished school and we’re…” He paused and linked their fingers together. “Really, really good.”

She smiled. “Yeah, we are.”

“I want to talk to him about it again.”

She propped herself up on one arm and looked down at him, her blue, blue eyes seeking something in his. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the Vice-President resigning and you feeling like you don’t have control over anything?”

He shook his head, although she certainly knew him well. He didn’t have control over anything at work. Vice-President Hoynes had resigned five days earlier after having an affair, and he’d felt incredibly guilty for not having warned the President about his… tendencies. And the one man he wished he could make Vice-President, Leo, had refused to even consider it. But that had nothing to do with Donna, and he was finally at a place in his life where he knew that. 

“I don’t like it when you don’t spend the night and I have to wake-up without you,” he said, running his fingers lightly back and forth over hers. “Cause the pillow smells like you, but not enough. And I don’t like leaving your place at five o’clock in the morning when you’re warm and lying half across me and moving you means that you sigh and pout in your sleep. And I don’t like it when you say home, 'cause you’re not talking about here.” She bit her bottom lip and he ran his thumb over it before reaching up and kissing her, sucking it into his mouth and soothing it with his tongue. “Say yes,” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

He pulled his head back and looked at her, a smile crossing his face. “Yes? Really?”

She nodded and smiled at him. “Yes. But Liz’s lease isn’t up for two more months, so there’s no hurry. Talk to Dr. Miller and see what he says.”

“I will. Now…” he said with a smirk, pushing her lightly to her back and rolling on top of her. “Let’s talk about something more pressing. You’re naked; it would be a shame to waste that.”

********** 

They were almost late to the airport to pick up her parents. They didn’t have many mornings to spend lounging around in bed, so they’d lost track of time. He called and checked in with Leo as they drove to National, not hanging up even as they parked in short-term parking. He hated talking to Leo when he was supposed to be spending time with Donna. She’d once told him that she didn’t need him to always be there, but when he was there, she needed all of him. He did his best, but with the Vice-President mess, it wasn’t the best time to be taking the entire weekend off work. 

He parked the car and reached over for her hand, picking it up and kissing it, his way of apologizing. She smiled at him and got out, waiting for him to do the same, and he put his hand on her back and led her into the airport and to the security checkpoint where they’d have to wait. 

He finished his call and put his phone in his pocket, then stood behind her with his arms around her as she watched down the long hallway. “Everything’s looking ok so far?” she asked nervously.

He knew she was worried that he’d get called into work and wouldn’t get to meet her parents. He’d missed Christmas with her family because of a snow storm that had closed the airports, and had ended up trying to get a roof fixed in Israel with Leo and calling her about a thousand times to both hear her voice and make sure she was still planning on coming back. But that was December and this was May, and those fears that once plagued his mind no longer had control over him. 

He nodded and kissed her neck lightly. “The President’s too busy getting ready to speak at Zoey’s ceremony today to do any real work.”

“What about the VP?”

“Berryhill.”

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, reminding himself that he couldn’t force Leo to be the Vice-President anymore than he could force Vice-President Hoynes to remain faithful to his wife. “Yes. Yes, it’s good.”

She turned her head where she could look at him. “Wow, very impressive.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m learning to let things go.”

“You’re doing a very good job of it.”

“Thank you.” 

She turned back around and leaned into him a bit. “You’re about to meet my parents,” she said almost to herself. She didn’t have to tell him why it was so important to her, why she was both nervous and excited. It was the same reason he’d been so excited when she and his mother had so quickly hit it off. He’d watched them from across the room, the two most important people in his life, and had felt a sense of… completion. 

He squeezed her tighter. “I am.”

“They’ve got enough votes to get Berryhill confirmed?”

He nodded against her neck. “Have I mentioned how much easier it is to get things done now that we’ve won back the House?”

She chuckled. “Once or twice.” She stiffened and then her arm shot straight into the air and she waved enthusiastically at two people whose pictures he’d seen on the dresser in her bedroom, not that he’d ever tell them that. The woman waved back and Josh couldn’t get over how much she looked like Donna. “That’s them,” she said in an excited voice, stepping out of his embrace and next to him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing.

“There’s my lawyer! Hi baby,” her father said, shifting the overnight bag around his shoulder as he approached her and hugging her solidly as she dropped Josh’s hand and hugged him back.

“Hi, Dad!”

When he let her go, she looked at her mom, her smile widening even more, and without a word, they leaned in and hugged tightly. When she pulled back, she took a deep breath and looked at Josh. “Mom… Dad…” there was a quiver in her voice and he put his hand on her back, rubbing it slightly up and down. “This is Josh,” she barely got out.

Her father stuck his hand out and smiled warmly. “It’s nice to finally meet you Josh. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s an honor, Sir,” he said, shaking the man’s hand before turning to her mother. “Mrs. Moss,” he said quietly.

“Josh…” 

He looked at the woman in front of him. This woman who’d saved Donna’s life in more ways than one, who’d been there for her when he hadn’t been able to be. This woman to whom he owed a debt of gratitude he doubted he could ever repay. They stared at each other for several seconds before he suddenly leaned in and hugged her, and as if they were having a conversation only the two of them could hear, as if he was thanking her and she was telling him he was welcome, she hugged him back. 

When he stood up, Donna had wet eyes and was wiping a tear off her cheek.

********** 

She sat on a chair in Healy Lawn on the main campus in her black cap and blue gown, listening to the dean of the law school addressing the graduates and the future and the role they’d play. The President had spoken there two hours earlier at his daughter’s undergraduate ceremony, but she didn’t need that. It couldn’t beat this moment. Not to her. 

This was… everything she worked for when she had to work to ease the pain. It was the payback she demanded from a man who’d let her give it up. It was the reason for a thousand sacrifices and countless sleepless nights. It was the path Josh set her on and the one plus, the one good thing that came out of leaving him all those years ago. And now it had come full circle, leading her to DC and back to him, and he sat on hard, uncomfortable bleachers behind her, sharing this day with her, and the President couldn’t compete with that. 

“Donnatella Moss.”

She took a deep breath and stood up, her three second recognition of a job well done. The path she’d taken to get there flashed through her mind; a break-up, a suggestion to get away, a candidate who stood out, a man whose view of the world changed her forever, and she smiled to herself, thinking of this life she’d stumbled into and how much better she was for it.


End file.
